Beyond the Gate: Edward Elric and the Order of the Phoenix
by betsybugaboo
Summary: After facing the Homunculi, saving Amestris, and sacrificing his alchemy to save his brother, Edward would have never dreamed that the Truth would ask him to save another universe where magic reigns. Translation from French of mel72000's awesome fic, Par delà la Porte : E Elric et l'Ordre du Phénix.
1. Chapter 1

Edward faced Alphonse, whose gaunt face was lit up with joy, confidence lighting his golden eyes. With the older supporting the younger, the two brothers turned towards the dark door to leave the blank space between the worlds, a place they had spent far too much time in already.

Edward smiled as he never had before, exulting in his mind. He wanted to share his joy with the world, shouting their victory from the rooftops: he had finally achieved the goal he set for himself, five years ago now. His brother had regained his body of flesh, blood and bones. He was again able to feel, eat, sleep; all sensations that Al had been deprived of by Ed's arrogant mistake. The loss of his alchemy was more than secondary compared to the joy of his promise being fulfilled.

Certainly, he could not deny, deep within him, he would miss the power of alchemy. It was a hard drug to which he was accustomed. Winry was not completely wrong when she accused him of being obsessed with alchemy. But he also knew that all his words addressed to the Truth were true, and it was liberating to say the words, truer than all the knowledge the Gate had granted.

"Edward Elric"

The sound of the voice he knew so well, from both many meetings and his nightmares, glued him to the spot. He slowly turned to face again the strange entity. Confused thoughts mixed with anxiety, revolt and misunderstanding jostled in his head: the former alchemist wondered what he could have done wrong. He had won. He had defeated and understood his truth! Did he not deserve to return with Alphonse? Did he have no right to live a happy life with his family, and, he hoped, Winry? Able to tell others that their long journey was over?

But, drawing deep down with the little courage he felt, he managed to regain control of his emotions and asked with the most unemotional tone he had in store:

"What?"

The Truth seemed to look at him carefully. Seemed, as it was difficult to describe a being that had no clearly defined face. But at least it wasn't smiling that sarcastic smile that had haunted Ed's many nightmares. No, it merely stared at him, despite his lack of eyes, as if contemplating something extremely interesting. Curiously, this was not reassuring in the least.

"Do not look so scared, Edward Elric. I just want to make you an offer…"

Although Edward claimed to be an atheist, he had, during his adventures, acquired a holy fear of this being who defined itself as God. The past year had pushed the limits of what he had believed. However, there was a notable difference between believing in God in a purely intellectual and reasoned way, and believing in Him with faith and confidence, and the latter was definitely not the case for the former alchemist. So, it was hard to believe that this entity simply wanted to make him an offer, especially one that he would be free to accept or decline. First, though, he needed to protect his brother. Ed turned to Alphonse and asked:

"Do you think you can cross through the Gate without my help?"

"What are you talking about?! I'll wait for you, big brother. I know you'll do something stupid without me being there-" Alphonse protested, outraged by the reaction of his older brother before his speech was cut off.

"Al, we both know what happened the last time I did something stupid: you paid the price. No- don't interrupt. I know what you're gonna say. You'll tell me you helped, too, that it was not my fault you lost your body, etcetera, etcetera. We could talk for hours. But the fact is that you were my responsibility and I only now fixed what I did to you." Seeing the look on his brother's face, Ed reassured him. "I would prefer if you at least had a head start, okay? I'll be back, I promise," said Edward Elric, with a serious look.

"But Ed- I would- What'll happen to you? What should I tell everyone?" questioned Alphonse, deathly worried.

"I don't want you to be part of the equivalent exchange, Al. You are priceless to me and I do not want to lose you. Don't worry, I will return. Have you ever seen me break my promises?" asked his big brother with a smirk.

"Yes, but not the most important ones. I understand, and I'll go. But, Ed, if you don't come back... you know what I'll do!" warned Alphonse. He exchanged a last look, tinted by warning, with his elder brother who smiled with an assurance that almost convinced his junior. Almost.

Edward escorted Al to the Gate, and watched him cross the threshold that would bring him back.

When he was sure Al had returned safely to their friends, Ed gave a small sigh of relief. Then he turned to face the Truth that was still sitting and appearing to gaze meditatively.

"A beautiful speech - almost worth the one you gave me before I returned your brother," said the entity appreciatively.

"... Well, what's your proposal?" Ed, reluctant to discuss rhetoric with a being well beyond his comprehension.

"You're always so eager. I have a proposition for you, or more accurately, a favor to ask. You are free to accept or reject what I offer and there will be no consequences, good or bad, for you if you refuse. You will forget that this discussion even took place." said the Truth, rising.

"What is it? I can't agree to carry out a task if I don't know whether I can do it." Ed asked, knitting his eyebrows.

"I believe you are quite capable of fulfilling this task. It is neither more nor less than to save a world, or rather a world a power hungry being in search of immortality seeks to destroy," said the entity, unusually serious and without his usual ironic smile.

"Just that-" Edward was completely flabbergasted, before something the Truth had said snagged in his mind. "Wait, you just said a world? There's more than one?"

"Yes. This place is ... for lack of a better term, a crossroads between multiple realities. Some like yours are for the living, others are reserved for those who are dead, what you commonly call the beyond," explained the Truth. Edward silently listened to his words, hoping that the guardian of the Gate didn't intend to send him to this famous beyond now.

"But it is not the second category of the world that concerns us, but the first," continued the being, as if he had read Edward's mind, which was probably the case. "Each of these worlds has unique features, most notable of which is the way their inhabitants use the power that animates the universe."

"Like alchemy?" Ed asked.

"Indeed. Different rules govern the use of this energy in these universes. In your home world, you use alchemy and the law of equivalent exchange to access that power. In another, the control of the spiritual elements is this method, for example. But there is a world that has become increasingly complex and frustrating in keeping the balance."

"And let me guess, it's in that one that there is a problem," deduced the former alchemist, knowing this was his chance.

"Exactly. This world is special for a small minority of people who have what they call magic. Unlike your world, where anyone could become an alchemist by training, the ability to use magic is genetic, with an average of one in ten thousand, and even that is decreasing. The vast majority of the population lives in ignorance of the existence of that power and evolved through the use of science and technology," described the Truth, who then waited for the reaction of the young boy.

"But ... this magic, it has to have its limits, right?" Edward asked, completely incredulous.

"There are very few, mainly that they have no power over life and death."

"It's not very fair," Ed could not help saying, "A minority of people having that much power without having done anything to deserve it, without sacrificing anything to get it…"

"Who are you to say what is right or not?" said the Truth.

"I'm only human, but I don't understand the justice of the Truth!" exclaimed Edward. he was well aware that he was venturing into dangerous territory, but his anger overrode his caution. "I mean, you knew that Mustang refused to perform human transmutation and yet you still blinded him. Between us, Alphonse was the least responsible for our sin, and yet you made him lose everything while I only lost a leg! I don't understand your justice! "

Edward fell to his knees, suffocated by his own words. He dumped all which had weighed on his heart for years, all his rebellion, his incomprehension in the face of an omniscient and omnipotent being. This could only end badly for him. He eventually raised his head to look the Truth in the face. The white figure still seemed calm, with an indecipherable air and after a few moments, it said:

"I might as well tell you. You would normally have been entitled to it on the day of your death, however, it is better that you understand this now so that you can make your decision freely. You must know that there is a difference between the price to pay for the knowledge that you get and the price of your arrogance. Ordinarily, the price of knowledge behind the door relates to individuals, but during your human transmutation, you and your brother mixed up your spirits, and so you received the same amount of knowledge. But Alphonse Elric needed more knowledge than you to be at your level of knowledge, and thus lost more."

"You're not telling me that my brother needed more than I did?" growled Edward.

"Did I say that? You've outlived your brother, you have more memories, more knowledge. And even if you are both brilliantly intelligent, you surpass him in the intellectual point of view. But if we consider a person as such, we see that each one is unique and invaluable, and so the comparison is not relevant. But you already knew that," the Truth said, smiling.

"Yes ... and as regards the price of arrogance? Father talked about it with us." Edward asked, surprised by the response that reflected his thinking.

"The price of arrogance ... in the case of your brother, the price of his pride and of the knowledge acquired were confused and therefore he lost more. In your case, it was to know that you were responsible for much of the state of your brother. You spoke of Colonel Mustang, he paid the price of knowledge, namely his sight. If he had performed human transmutation he would have lost much more: the love of the woman he loves and his ability to guide his people; for what leader would sacrifice his people for the price of arrogance. Above all the suffering of the soul and not that of the body, are the price I demand, although the two can be confused."

"I think I see," said Edward, lost in his thoughts for a moment before returning to the original subject. "But in this world you mentioned, one of magic, if I understand you correctly, there is no equivalent exchange. How can they have virtually unlimited power without exchanging something?"

"I can give you some aphorisms of their world, if it will help you understand them. 'With great power comes great responsibility' and 'From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.' Each of them will have to be accountable for their use of magic," stated the Truth without saying more.

"I hope they are aware of this," Ed murmured, a little pale. "What do you intend for me to do in this world, then?"

"Normally, I would have left things as they are. But there is a sorcerer there who has approached as near to immortality as he can, to the point of pushing the limits of his world. He wants to subjugate the world. If it were only that, I would have just waited for those of his world responsible for his elimination to act. The problem is that he is about to succeed and if that happens, he could gain knowledge of information that would allow him access to this place between worlds. This must be prevented at all costs."

"Why do they do this, all these megalomaniacs that seek eternal life and infinite knowledge? And why can't you prevent them from doing that?" Ed grew angry.

"I cannot act directly in this world, but I can send someone from another universe to act as an agent of change," replied the Truth, smiling knowingly.

"And I'm the lucky one?" asked the former alchemist, annoyed at the rhetoric and trying not to growl.

. "Good answer. You are free to accept this challenge or not."

"Wait a second! Won't this take a lot of time? If I don't go back soon, Al'll probably make a stupid mistake to try and get me back! I can't risk that!" Ed cried.

"No one will notice you've been gone. Only one second has elapsed in your world. You would return the age you are now, no matter what happens in this other world," the silhouette answered.

For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Edward seriously considered the proposal: if he accepted a priori Al wouldn't know ...But what would happen if he died during the mission? How would his brother react?

And there was also the fact that this mission might last a long time: it took him five years to discover what lay behind the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone, a year after they had finally discovered his plans to undo the Dwarf in the Flask's threat. Who knew how long his adventure would last. And this time, Alphonse would not be at his side: he would be alone in a world he knew nothing about, with no one to talk to. He would be experiencing the pain of separation by himself and he did not know if he would even be able to stand it.

He really wanted to refuse: after all, he had just saved Amestris from total annihilation and fulfilled the most important promise he had ever made in his life. he wanted nothing as much as to find those who had supported him and thank them for their help, celebrate their victory, pay his respects to the dead, and tell Winry she could cry tears of joy this time.

But he could not. He remembered too well the last few months he had lived: the terrible anguish that had grabbed him when he thought that, perhaps, they might fail; the terror he carefully concealed, hiding his cracks, because otherwise he may never recover. He remembered terrifying nightmares in which he saw himself wandering alone, the same as his father, in a country whose inhabitants had been converted into a Philosopher's Stone by a genocidal abomination. And he still felt the pain from injuries he had sustained during the battle against Father, seeing the walking corpses the Homunculi had created in his mind again and again. He couldn't stand back and allow other worlds to suffer, and face the same threat his had. Thinking that he was definitely too selfless, too dumb and too brave for his own good, he turned to Truth who was still observing him, took a deep breath and blurted:

"I will!"

"Thank you, Edward Elric." The voice of being in front of him was devoid of any trace of sarcasm, as if it was truly grateful, then, it continued in a tone far too cheerful for Ed's taste. "Now for the formalities..."

Edward began to wonder what trouble he had just gotten himself into. The Truth then waved his arm and snapped its fingers, a gesture Ed judged unnecessarily pretentious. A second later, the Gate, symbol of all his alchemical knowledge, the one he had sacrificed in exchange for his brother, appeared in front of him.

"Well, first of all, know that you have become an alchemist again. Congratulations, Edward Elric."

Seeing that the young alchemist was still staring at the door with mouth agape and eyes bulging, the being took it upon itself to make some clarifications:

"Don't worry, your brother has nothing to do with the return of your door. This is part of equivalent exchange: you finish this mission for me, you regain your alchemy. It'll help you integrate you there. When you return to Amestris once your mission is complete, you will be able to keep all your newly acquired knowledge to offset your time spent separated from your loved ones."

"Wait a minute!" Edward exclaimed, having just recovered from his amazement. "How do I infiltrate a magical world knowing that, by definition, I am not a wizard?"

"Congratulations, you're a wizard, Edward Elric," answered the Truth with a second dramatic finger snap, before returning seriously. "You are now a wizard, but it's acquired, not innate. If you have children in Amestris, this provision will never be passed on to them. You will be the first and last sorcerer of your original universe."

"That suits me." Edward replied with a shrug: alchemy was his favorite, and had reassuring limits.

"Otherwise, there are few rules: Never reveal to people of this world where you came from or how you got there. On this point, I'll give you a small advantage to avoid any involuntary revelations from you, just to avoid problems … but this will not last forever. Secondly, do not teach alchemy to anyone living in this world, you can use it but you cannot explain it. Although some believe it would help them, they already have enough power without it. The third rule is that you cannot be killed. The last is a recommendation: your new powers will reveal themselves in a few weeks, until then you are a Muggle, a person without magical powers to witches and wizards. Do not disabuse them of this. You will find a good excuse. Good luck, magic alchemist!"

"Wait, you're gonna dump me in an unknown world that I know nothing about, there's going to be a homunculus-wannabe, and I'm already hurt! You haven't even told me how I should solve this!" exclaimed Ed, somewhat peeved.

"Yes," said Truth.

Edward Elric did not even have time to swear at it before black arms reached out of the door and dragged him through the opening into a world of which he knew nothing.

* * *

Translation Notes: It took me a bit to get the second quote the Truth gives, as a literal translation didn't sound right, and I didn't know where the quote was from. However, my good friend Google says it's the French translation of Luke 12:48 in the Bible, so I simply used the English version here. This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 06/26/17.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

July 3rd, 1995; London

It was past midnight when Minerva McGonagall left 12 Grimmauld Place. This was not without a sigh of relief: Order meetings lasted for hours! But it was a very minor inconvenience when she thought about the importance of the task they faced: to fight against You-Know-Who and prevent the world from plunging into darkness. During the first war, perhaps the meetings lasted less time; at that time, everyone already knew the tasks and less time was lost in discussions on how they should prioritize and focus their actions. But now, everything had to be redone: recruitment and education of new members, organizing and distributing tasks according to the abilities of each individual. Additionally, the war had not actually yet begun, but the stress of knowing there was likely only months left only increased the tension within the Order. For a while now, everyone had expected violent resumption of the war. Instead, there had been this unbearable waiting that wore on the nerves of all members, especially Sirius, who was anything but a model of patience.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not pay attention to where she stepped and stumbled on something, only managing to recover in time and avoid falling because she was aided by the catlike reflexes her Animagus powers granted her. She turned back to see what she had tripped on. There was a dark mass just before the front step. She strained to identify what it was in the dim, diffused glow of the streetlights. She gasped when she realized it was a body, at first glance that of a teenager. Glancing around to make sure there was nobody on the street, Professor McGonagall carefully pulled out her wand and muttered a _Lumos_ to better distinguish the young boy.

Her teacher's instinct had not deceived her, it was indeed a boy: he was somewhere between medium and small in size, but was quite muscular, as far as she could tell. He had blond hair spotted with a dark liquid she immediately recognized as blood, to her horror. His dark clothes were torn and stained with blood, as if he had just come from a battlefield.

Keeping her composure, the teacher laid two fingers on the teen's neck and was reassured by a slow but steady pulse. She then lifted the closed eyelids of the boy and was struck by the golden color of the iris, similar to the color she had seen in the eyes of Remus Lupin. His pupils reacted to the light, a sign that he was half conscious, but his eyes seemed unable to focus as if he wasn't seeing anything.

The elderly teacher hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, and looked up from the boy to ensure the area was still free of Muggles. Waving her wand, she muttered an _Expecto Patronum_ and dictated a message to select members of the Order. Then she waited, watching the boy, attentive to any changes that may occur but remaining watchful in case this was a trap set by Death Eaters. She may have been wrong to ask for help from the Order, but this child had been found bloody and unconscious too close to headquarters, not to mention the unnatural color of his eyes; often enough anything that seemed unnatural had a magical origin. If the boy turned out to be a Muggle, a simple _Obliviate_ would solve any problems.

A few minutes later, Alastor Moody, Molly Weasley, and Remus Lupin had arrived. Remus had a black dog, Sirius in his Animagus form, at his side. She briefly explained the situation to them and soon everyone began to give their opinion on the situation: Alastor felt that it was a trap to lure them outside and to get rid of them; Molly, on the other hand, wanted nothing so much as take the unfortunate child in and start giving him first aid in 12 Grimmauld Place though she could not do this because she was not the secret keeper. Both members were already beginning to argue more or less silently on what to do, to the annoyance of Minerva McGonagall, when Remus interjected calmly and informed them that he had already contacted Albus Dumbledore and that he was soon to arrive.

A slight crack informed them of the arrival of the Hogwarts headmaster, who approached the small group in a hurry. He leaned over the boy who still had not moved and waved his wand over him, murmuring mysterious words, and seeing no change in the status of the teenager, he sighed deeply, seeming to weigh his options. At the end, he made his decision and grabbed the boy and ordered the members to return to the Black house.

As he was carrying the teenager inside the house, Albus Dumbledore was pensive about the fact they had discovered this wounded child just a few meters from the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Naturally, suspicion was necessary when such coincidences happened, but, from what he could see, the boy's injuries were not of magical origins. He put the child, who was unusually heavy for his age, on the kitchen table and lit several lamps to see the boy better. Behind him, Alastor grumbled, repeating that it was madness to have allowed the teen in the house. Molly wanted to start healing the boy's injuries, but Dumbledore stopped her, saying, "First, we should ensure there are no dangerous, slow-acting spells on him."

The child was covered with bruises and open wounds, particularly on his head, as if he had been beaten, and diagnostic spells unveiled several cracked ribs. His left arm seemed to have been pierced by a huge nail but more surprising was when the spell reported an amputated left leg. A cutting spell on the teen's pants unveiled a strange machine, purely Muggle, which seemed to replace the missing limb- a truly intriguing element.

However, there was nothing that prevented any healing spells from being cast, and so Molly was able to help the boy to her heart's content, from patching up his larger wounds down to the unconscious teen's minor booboos. Albus Dumbledore then cast a series of identification spells, but to his surprise, there were zero results. The spells worked based on the person's own conceptions of themself; for the teen to have no conclusive answer meant the teen must be very confused. A second spell to measure the magical power of a person told him that the child had not developed any magic, and was therefore a Muggle (1). Sighing, the director resigned himself to calling his best asset to discover who the boy was and walked to the fireplace to call Severus Snape.

The Potions master arrived a few minutes later, visibly out of sorts- as are often those forced out of bed at two in the morning. The Headmaster explained the situation briefly, earning much muttering under Snape's breath, though he nevertheless bent over the boy, paying particularly close attention to his eyes, before giving his biting diagnosis:

"Most likely some drugged-out fool caught in a gang war."

"Why, Severus, he's too young! " exclaimed Molly Weasley, like a mother hen defending her chicks.

"This is the most likely conclusion," replied Severus Snape monotonously, "Dilated pupils, as if he were hallucinating; semi-conscious, yet non-responsive; recently been in a fight and a Muggle. He's an addict, likely on cocaine and heroin."

The teacher's tone was filled with contempt: nothing was more hateful, he said, than Muggles using drugs, including alcohol. It was proof that they were weak, unable to take their life, unable to fight, the most obvious sign of depravity and human decadence. And the boy seemed to him to present all the symptoms. God knows how many people he had seen like that on Spinner's End. He could not sympathize for those fallen so low, with no respect for themselves.

But Molly Weasley did not agree with this diagnosis and began to scold him for his harsh judgments. An argument ensued, with everyone joining in, giving their opinion and choosing one side or another before the Potions Master was seized with a brilliant idea:

"We can determine if he is or is not under the influence of drugs, if you want to have proof. I have in my cabinet a potion that has the effect of completely purging the body of all drugs they contain, it is harmless to Muggles. We will test him."

Sure of herself, Molly Weasley gave her consent and Severus Snape was absent a few minutes before returning with a small vial which he unceremoniously poured down the throat of the young Muggle. Minerva, who knew her colleague all too well, and knew he was as far as possible from the model of the Good Samaritan, chose that moment to ask:

"Severus, what are the side effects of this treatment?"

"The effects of a hangover a thousandfold: the potion purges all drugs through the pores of the skin. Withdrawal symptoms are brought on twofold, and are very hard to bear, true torture, according to those who have taken it. In the end, the patient is completely free of the slightest trace of drugs and will likely be disgusted forever by them. But, obviously, if he is not on drugs, he will feel very well, having been completely purified."

His colleague shook her head. Trust Severus to find a cure that is worse than the disease.

The group waited for the potions to take effect, then wear off, which took about fifteen minutes. Molly carried a triumphant air about her, for the potion had encountered no drugs. Sirius was delighted to see that his old enemy had been mistaken. However, this meant that they would have to wait until the patient woke up before they could have their questions answered. The Order members sat and awaited the teen's awakening.

Meanwhile, Edward lived through real torture within himself, cursing the Truth with all his heart for all the pain he had felt from ingesting all the relevant knowledge of this world. The pain felt as if it would blow his skull apart and leave him a vegetable. He was in the process of receiving the equivalent of a dictionary and the complete rules of grammar for the language it was in, in his head. Or rather several dictionaries. Truth had obviously seen fit to grant him a dozen languages without thinking that, maybe, he would not need them or could learn them later. It was the same as when he had passed through the Gate at the age of ten- he had learned Xingese dialects, the languages of Drachma, Aruego and Creta, and Xerxian (unfortunately, he hadn't learned any Ishvalan, which would have been damn useful when deciphering Scar's brother's cursed book!) And then the nightmare began again, with the added disadvantage that some of these languages did not use the same system of writing.

Fortunately, a part of Ed managed to stand in the way of this flood of information, allowing him to organize his thoughts, classifying them methodically by placing them in boxes from which he could extract information at any time to compare. He used this ability to rake in huge amounts of information and bore great powers of concentration that were bought with hard work and sacrifice. All these skills had made him an alchemy wunderkind. Also, after spending a few precious minutes cursing the Truth, he immediately set to work to classify all the new people who crowded his brain, unaware of the people outside his head who were talking about him.

After six hours Ed came out of his trance. He could not be more surprised to see that a dozen people surrounded him, three or four of whom were already pointing sticks at him. Having never seen a weapon so ridiculous before, he could not help opening his big mouth and ask:

"What are the sticks for?"

A man with dark eyes and oily hair muttered "Muggle" in a tone that made him frown.

"Come, Professor Snape…" a woman with red hair started to say with a reproachful tone.

"Young man, can you tell us what happened to you? " asked an old man with white hair and a beard of considerable length who was looking at him gravely.

"Um… my name is Edward Elric," the young alchemist replied, before remembering the rules of his mission. He could not reveal anything about himself, and he did not yet know this world well enough to explain his circumstances. So, he was left with that good old excuse of amnesia.

"How old are you?" asked an amiable man who had eyes almost the same color as his.

"I'm not sure ... I ... I don't remember." Said Ed, pretending to look at himself to determine his age.

"Given his size, he must be fourteen, maybe fifteen ... (2)" Sirius said. Ed had to pinch himself to refrain from an angry rant.

"Where are you from, boy?" Moody growled, fixing him with a hard stare.

However, Edward was more interested in something else.

"Augh! What happened to your eye?" exclaimed Edward with a thrill of horror at the eye that had given Moody his famous nickname.

"Don't change the subject, brat! Besides, you have a strange leg as well!" raged the retired Auror.

"My leg?" Edward asked, feeling that this would be a good way to strengthen his excuse. He pretended to look at his left leg, paled, and put his hands to his mouth as if he was about to vomit. He almost laughed when he saw the small crowd back away quickly. He then collapsed on the table as if he was too shocked to stand.

"Bravo, Moody, you've scared him." Snape said, pointing his wand at Ed again.

"Ah!" Ed exclaimed, feeling a burst of energy run through his body. "What was that?"

"That, my boy, was magic," Dumbledore replied, smiling with a benevolent air. "However, as you do not seem to be able to answer questions, I'll have to use Legilimency to determine exactly who you are."

'Legilimency? Latin- _legere_... read, and _mencie_... mind? He'll read my mind? Not good!' Edward thought. The Latin he had learned had turned out to be useful. The old wizard pointed his wand at him.

To Dumbledore's surprise instead of seeing confused images or memories he found himself in a big white space. The only thing present was a large black door with an engraving on it. The door was firmly shut. The headmaster of Hogwarts had never seen anything like this, though he had read the testimony of some Healer about it: it was a sign that the person had repressed memories that were locked up, never to be opened, as a coping method. The mark of a mind that had suffered a violent trauma. Enough that the boy had had to shut his entire life behind that door. Heaving a deep sigh, he left the boy's mind and explained what was probably the cause of the Edward's amnesia. Molly Weasley sighed in pity, with a grave air around her now.

The question now was what to do with the teen: Molly only wanted to keep him safe there and comfort him. But Alastor and Severus were resolutely against this, arguing that he was a Muggle and his place was not here. Albus, to his regret, was unfortunately in agreement with the two men: Edward Elric was obviously a Muggle and it was the Muggle authorities' job to find the key to the mystery behind the boy's amnesia. He raised his wand and hit the boy with a _Stupefy_ , then an _Obliviate_. The boy fell unconscious.

Molly wiped her tears and, with a final spell, repaired the boy's clothes. Dumbledore instructed Severus, probably the one person there who knew the Muggle world best, to leave the boy near a police station with a letter explaining his situation. He also asked him to keep an eye on him if he could, saying, "One never knows, Severus."

Meanwhile, on the floor above, the newly created extendable ears retracted from their vantage point and sent Fred and George running to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who had just arrived the day before, to tell them of their latest discovery. Ginny slipped down the stairs to the ground floor under the pretext of having breakfast and had just enough time to see the Potions master leaving with a young boy with golden hair in his arms. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could have sworn that, for an instant, his strange golden eyes had opened for a second before closing.

* * *

mel72000's notes:

(1) As stated in the previous chapter, it will take a while before Ed's powers appear.

(2) Concerning Ed's size: no, he hasn't changed, he's still larger than Winry. I fixed his size at 1m 64cm, but Edward is from the early twentieth century and at that time, men were smaller by at least eight to nine centimeters. So, Edward will always be smaller than average.

* * *

Translation notes: Shout out to the peeps over at the Harry Potter wiki, for having all the translations of spells. I felt really stupid because I couldn't remember Patronum Spero in the books, but that's the French translation of Expecto Patronum. Ah, well. This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/06/17.

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A week had passed since Edward Elric's arrival in this new world, and the least anyone could say about it was that he was upset. His first encounter with wizards had resulted in an interrogation, and an attempted intrusion into his mind, fortunately countered by the Truth's failsafes. The following brainwashing attempt also failed and he had ended up knocked out by the old man's spell and left on the steps of a police station with as much ceremony or caution that someone would give trash. In short, a terrible first impression.

The worst was that the headache—caused by the knowledge forced upon him—was so severe he almost fainted on the steps. An officer found him there, woke him, and Ed had again ended up being questioned, by an inspector this time to his great annoyance. He preferred to stay with his excuse of amnesia and had claimed not to remember anything. He had been taken to a doctor who, by a stroke of incredible luck, had not noticed that his leg, which could very well provoke awkward questions for the teen. He then faked amnesia convincingly enough to persuade the doctor he suffered memory loss. Luckily, he had studied amnesia and its effects when he noticed that Alphonse did not remember the Gate or the transmutation, and was pretty good actor when he took the trouble. He pretended to have forgotten his personal history but also to have still remembered general knowledge.

Questioning him had given the police nothing, and his case was passed on to child services. Ed was left to the boring bureaucratic process and faceless social workers. Following lengthy procedures that the boy had not bothered to follow, it was decided that he would be sent to an orphanage in Surrey pending a possible return of his memories. A social worker was assigned to deal with his case and, desperate to put him into the system as quickly as possible, she made him take several tests to determine what his intellectual and academic levels were. Edward had hesitated with the options he faced regarding these exams, as to whether or not he should hide his intelligence.

In the end, he decided that if he wanted to be independent as soon as possible, he shouldn't bother obfuscating stupidity. In addition, he had never made a habit out of hiding his intelligence; he was proud of his abilities and this test would allow him to show that.

However, as he did not know the average level of intelligence in this world, he had, as a precaution, correctly answered most, but not all, of the questions in the time allotted him.

The exams were rather boring compared to the national exam to become a state alchemist, and he decided to do his best to shine in his favorite subjects, namely the sciences, both physical and biological. He pretended to have some weakness in history and geography, although the Truth had decided to award him with an excellent level of understanding of most subjects. With all this knowledge that had been stored up in him, he felt almost like he was cheating even though he had paid for this knowledge by being separated from his brother for an indeterminate length of time.

Ever since his results had come in, though, almost the entire home where he was staying had begun avoiding and leaving wide, staring eyes in his wake, which tended to exasperate the young boy. Fortunately, some of the local bullies had tried to teach him humility, allowing him to relieve at least some of his stress with his fists. Since then, he had been left in peace, which suited him perfectly well.

The results had not been purely negative, however. The director of the orphanage where he was staying had puffed up when he saw Ed's IQ test results; it was apparently a very high level and he had started telling Ed of similar scores, comparing him especially to a man named Einstein. Some of his connections, including both the director and the benefactor of the orphanage that kept it running smoothly, had children. Requests began pouring in for tutoring from the young 'genius amnesiac' as he was now known, to his great displeasure. However, these sessions did give him an advantage. He was very well paid for it and managed to begin accumulating an account at the local bank.

Thus, throughout the month of July, Edward Elric worked as a tutor with children, usually brats who were spoiled rotten, who did not understand a word of science and logic. Suffice it to say that these adolescents tended to exhaust the thin reserves of patience Ed possessed. The worst of them turned out to be a boy, who was more an illiterate, obese pig than a human, named Dudley Dursley.

* * *

Over the years, Harry Potter had developed a method for listening to Uncle Vernon's many speeches or rants, a method where he pasted an attentive look on his face while his mind was thinking about something else. But today, he could not help but turn an ear to the conversation after hearing the completely unrealistic news: Dudley was receiving tutoring in science! Completely incredulous, he listened to his uncle and aunt express their pride, and finally he began to understand: apparently, in recent weeks, the neighbourhood had been speaking non-stop of a teenager, who apparently had an IQ equivalent to that of Einstein and gave private lessons. All the society parents had sought the help of the youth in question in order to give the impression that their own child was a genius as well. Apparently, the Dursleys had decided to do the same in order to boost their neighbourhood standing. This time, it was going to be Dudley who was going to pay the price. Harry hid a smile at seeing the crestfallen look on his cousin's face. He seemed to think that a portal to hell had opened beneath his feet. The young wizard could not help but take pity on the unfortunate teen genius who was going to try to get a little knowledge past the thick skull of 'the Big D'. He stared absently into space for a moment, imagining this, as his aunt started making preparations to welcome the visiting tutor appropriately.

About three hours later, the doorbell rang and Harry opened the door, and was able to now see what Dudley's new tutor looked like: it was actually a boy about his age but rather small. Even he, who was still not that tall, was taller than the tutor. He had blond hair and golden eyes that reminded Harry of Remus', despite the apparent lack of relation. He wore black jeans and a T-shirt of the same color, which gave him an almost gothic look. Clearly, he was quite far from the image of an intellectual, nerdy student in glasses he had imagined. His uncle and aunt pushed him to the side, presenting him as their 'somewhat unbalanced nephew' and led the boy, who introduced himself as Edward Elric, to the room where a nervous Dudley awaited him.

Harry went to sit outside by the open window, though not because he really intended to spy on the session. Some elements of his years of elementary school came back to his mind: he had never regretted leaving the normal curriculum to follow his schooling at Hogwarts, but at times, like Hermione, he sometimes regretted that Hogwarts taught no Muggle materials instead of completely useless disciplines like Binns or Trelawney´s classes. He began to pay attention to the session in the living room.

After two hours, Harry stood up, very self-satisfied. Even though he hadn't attended Muggle school for four years, he still understood physics better than Dudley. He soon realized that Edward had lowered his teaching level to what seemed to be an elementary school level, but his cousin still did not seem to understand. Of course, this did not mean Harry himself was gifted in this area, but to know he was better than 'the Big D' when he was several years behind was academically comforting. Another thing that delighted him: that he, a wizard, understood better than the average Muggle the way the world worked by virtue of having knowledge of magic.

He looked up from his spot outside just in time to see his cousin rush out of the house at an amazing speed for his weight, followed a few minutes later by the tutor. The tutor, Edward, started banging his head against the wall of the house, muttering "it's not possible," to himself. In a gesture of pure compassion, Harry quietly took a can of soda from the fridge and handed it to the desperate boy who accepted it while continuing to gently bang his head against the wall.

"Hard to get anything through his skull, huh?" Harry muttered with an understanding air.

"It's impossible for anyone to be so stupid…" the boy murmured before recovering.

"Don't worry, my uncle and aunt are still in the living room; they can't hear you when the window is closed," Harry reassured him before adding, "As for me, the more I'm away, the better they do, and vice versa. "

"I understand completely if they are as stupid as their offspring," the blond growled, holding his head. He then seemed to remember his manners. "I'm Edward Elric, but you can call me Ed."

"Harry Potter," replied the young wizard, shaking hands with Ed and thinking he might be his first friend outside of Hogwarts.

"Now, can you explain to me how is it that you're the one who is considered nuts? I hate to think your cousin is supposed to be saner than you." Edward continued sarcastically.

"My uncle and aunt don't like me and adore Dudley. And as I haven't been in a normal school for four years, it's hard to prove them wrong," Harry explained vaguely, shrugging.

"I see. I wouldn't like to be in your place," sighed the boy sitting on the floor soon followed by Harry, who asked him:

"And you, what's your story? I've never seen you around before this summer."

"In short, I was found on the steps of a police station in London, not remembering anything. I ended up being sent to the orphanage in Surrey. There, it was discovered that I was gifted and so I began tutoring to earn money to get me out of there," Ed said, before taking a large gulp of soda.

"You're an amnesiac? You really do not remember anything?" Asked the young wizard.

"Only basic knowledge, nothing about myself."

"It must be hard," Harry sympathized.

"No more than being an orphan, I suppose," Ed sighed, "That's your case, isn't it? I don't think your parents would have liked you being treated like a simpleton or freak."

"...They died when I was one year's old," confirmed Harry. He looked away.

"Sorry. Hmm... tomorrow, if you're interested, I could arrange for you to attend some tutoring sessions," suggested Edward Elric, who seemed to understand.

"I doubt they'll allow it," warned Harry who knew his uncle and aunt perfectly.

"It can't hurt to try!"

* * *

The next day at three o'clock, Harry, not believing his luck, sat in an armchair in the living room. Apparently, Edward knew how to be persuasive. Harry knew it must have taken a lot of hard work to convince the Dursleys, the young wizard could not help but be glad that someone had taken so much effort just for him. To his surprise his aunt had accepted Ed's request rather quickly: Muggle tutoring could be seen as a chance for him to become normal again and stop being a wizard. 'Little chance of that happening', Harry thought.

The Boy Who Lived wondered what Hermione would think if she knew he was taking remedial courses in physics. Knowing her, she would probably say she was proud that he had decided to try and learn more. Ron would grimace in horror, repeating "Additional classes?!" But then Harry frowned, thinking of his friends' most recent letters. They were far too uninformative and much too vague for his liking: they gave no information about Voldemort or on the measures taken to counter him, and the Daily Prophet continued to refuse to acknowledge the Dark Lord's return.

Shaking his head to get rid of these superfluous thoughts, Harry returned his attention to Edward's lesson. One could not deny one thing: Ed's over-enthusiasm about his subject. It was the fatal flaw of Hermione and other geniuses: if they thought something was obvious, then it must be for everyone else. Several times, Harry had had to interrupt the tutor's speech to ask questions, an action that caused Dudley to sneer contemptuously at him. Nevertheless, even he seemed to notice because he slowed down the pace. After spending two hours with him, Harry could already better understand Ed's personality: he was brilliant, determined, demanding and quick to get excited, even if he was trying to restrain himself. He really was someone friendly…despite his flaws.

Unfortunately, they could not talk much after classes, since Edward had other obligations in the neighbourhood. At least with him, he could feel a bit normal and not the Boy Who Survived Something He Couldn't Even Remember.

* * *

On July 25, six days before his birthday, Harry was out earlier than usual, unwilling to cross Dudley and the Dursleys. Wandering the streets, looking vaguely at a newspaper in the hopes that it could inform him of what was happening in the world better than his spy sessions on the midday news broadcasts. Suddenly, as he entered the small park, he heard a noise and looked up, surprised to find a jogger so early when it was only 6 am. The runner was Edward Elric, who seemed as surprised to see Harry as Harry was to see him.

"You're already up?" said an astonished Harry before he recovered: after all, he was also up.

"Yeah, every morning. I do two hours of exercise before returning to the orphanage," explained Ed, starting a series of stretches.

If he allowed himself to atrophy, his teacher, Izumi Curtis, would make him into mincemeat if she learned that he had not tried training even once. Besides, he had no excuse: since his brother had returned to his body, Ed had not needed to sleep or eat for two and so had seen his sleeping hours reduced from eleven to six hours, so he used much of the time gained to exercise.

"Usually, it's hard to imagine people like you play sports," the young wizard said after a moment, observing the boy do similar stretches to those Oliver Wood forced the Quidditch team to do.

"To train the mind, one must first train the body." Ed said, barely out of breath, repeating the maxim of his master.

"That sounds like the saying 'a healthy mind resides within a healthy body," remarked The Boy Who Lived, who then studied his friend as he began a series of movements that resembled boxing.

"I guess it's the same principle," Edward said, pretending to dodge a blow.

"You practice a martial art?" Harry asked before feeling like an idiot: if Ed was amnesiac, he couldn't know.

"I guess," Ed replied without pausing. "In any case, these exercises are familiar to me."

"Could you teach me?" asked the young wizard, who was thinking of the practical interest of knowing some fighting skills- he would be able to completely surprise certain wizards who had a highly inflated sense of superiority.

"If you want ..." accepted the young fighter before starting to demonstrate some of the simplest katas he knew.

They spent an hour working out in the sandbox before ending with a small friendly match. Ed won in three seconds flat, although the latter had told Harry he had good potential with his footwork after he avoided the first time. After a moment of hesitation, the Boy Who Lived decided he could finally call the boy his friend.

"Don't be discouraged by this! I've practiced since childhood and that's why I am so good!" Edward Elric said with a small smile as Harry vigorously massaged his thigh: how could Ed have hit it so hard with just his left leg?

"You've never tried to learn more about your past?" asked the young wizard, surprised by the casualness with which the boy spoke of his mysterious memories.

"Getting stuck in the past means nothing, it's not what drives us. We must look to the future and live in the present!" The blond asserted confidently.

"You're rather optimistic." Harry said.

"Yes, otherwise we stay there, indecisive and in the end, nothing is done and- we're being watched," Edward suddenly interrupted.

"What? That's not possible…" Harry murmured. He thought of the Death Eaters and had already made sure his wand was in his pocket, ready to use it to defend his life and Ed's in case of any problems.

"Calm down and don't look. It's only a little old lady, but she followed us from the park. Wait, I'll show you, look at that window, it doesn't even cover her. Amateur!" said the young prodigy.

"I recognize her... that's Arabella Figg, my neighbour," Harry said, suddenly remembering where he had heard that name: Dumbledore had mentioned her in the infirmary. Mrs. Figg was a witch and she hadn't told him?

"In any case, she's been following us. She stops when we stop, speeds up when we do," Ed said.

"How did you notice?" Harry asked, still shocked by his realization.

"Instinct," replied the teen, "Are you sure you want to go alone? She seems fishy."

Harry stared at the orphanage where his uncle had threatened to leave him many times before he reached his eleventh birthday and a giant had come to change his life, and nodded, sure, now, that Arabella was only watching him and not Edward, and unwilling to draw the attention of the wizards on his first Muggle friend. He shook his head and wished Ed good luck, knowing he would see him that afternoon.

* * *

At about three o'clock, the lesson began in the living room. This time it was a treatise on protons and elements that appeared to be one of Edward's passions. He was inexhaustible on the subject; fortunately, it was a subject that also very interested Harry. Prudently, he waited for Dudley to leave for a snack break, before asking his question, unwilling to let the Dursleys know he wanted clarification on such an unusual subject.

"Ed, if I understand what you said just now, to change from one element to another by removing or adding a proton- would that be possible? Theoretically, of course, to turn lead into gold?"

"Yes, it could. But you would have to have access to an absurd amount of energy to do this." Edward replied, cautiously.

"Long ago, I read something about alchemy. It seems that alchemists wanted to turn lead into gold, and for that, they had the philosopher's stone ... It was also said that it gave eternal life." Harry said.

'Even in another world, the damn stone continues to haunt me…' thought the young alchemist, though he kept a straight face, "By this logic, in theory, the philosopher's stone would be a source of pure energy. Let's hope that such a thing does not exist in this world. Life is interesting because it has a limit, that is what makes it so interesting and allows us to surpass ourselves." Edward stated.

"That's a nice way of putting it," Harry smiled.

"I know, I'm a genius ..." Ed sighed with a fatalistic tone when he saw that had Dudley come back into the living room, he replaced the impassive mask on his face and continued his course.

Harry was thinking deep inside that, even if this summer could be described as catastrophic with the return of Voldemort and the lack of response from the Ministry, the few new friends and discovery of a nearby witch who had hidden him all these years, at least, had turned out to make it worth it.

* * *

Translation Notes: None this chapter. This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/06/17.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

August 2, 1995

It was evening in the deserted park in Little Whinging. Edward had taken advantage of the twilight to demonstrating a devastating (according to him) punch to Harry. He had begun to appreciate these moments of learning with the other boy, although he certainly did not have the skill of a fighter, even a beginner. Ed was pretty funny to watch when he described the effects of various strikes, complete with exaggerated movements and over the top facial expressions. The Boy Who Lived often wondered how his new friend could be reconciled into one person, with both a serious approach to the sciences and a wild enthusiasm when it came to fighting.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A little nerd trying to box?"

Harry turned, recognizing the voice of his cousin. He began to grin. Once, inadvertently, he had asked Ed if being short was often a disadvantage in combat. A second later, he found himself on the ground with the boy telling him angrily to never call him a _'dwarf who needed stilts to be worthy of his opponents!_ '. Harry still had not figured out how Ed was able to interpret his sentence is such a way. That day, he had discovered that his Muggle friend was never to be insulted about his height problem; offenders were likely to get a fist to the face. Unfortunately, the Big D didn't know this.

"What did you say?!" growled the young prodigy.

"I said 'you want to take a boxing lesson from me? pretentious little pipsqueak." Dudley repeated confidently.

"It'll hardly be a fair fight but bring it on tubby!" said Ed, he was smiling with a predatory air that Harry could not help but find slightly scary.

Harry tried to join Ed and lend him a hand knowing that his cousin, despite his title as Prefectural Junior Boxing Champion, was always afraid of magic. But the boy, confident, shook his head silently, looking assured. Dudley seemed the most suspicious of the confidence displayed by his opponent, but he was surrounded by his gang and could hardly back out of a fight with them standing there. He got into position and launched a devastating right that Ed avoided with ease. The blond threw a hook that his opponent dodged by stooping. Edward then swept his left leg in a wide arc that smashed into Dudley's legs, sending him to the ground.

"That's cheating!" exclaimed Harry's cousin, enraged.

"Oh, it is? And when your gang holds down a kid while you beat him up, it's not cheating?" Edward Elric replied icily.

Furious and forgetting all the rules of the noble art, Dudley rushed the boy who was waiting quietly. Before the fist could strike him, Ed dodged his opponent, making use of the momentum of his opponent and centrifugal force, threw him into the sandbox. Disorientated, he could not dodge a right cross.

"One last thing: never call me short." growled Edward, menacingly.

He cast a look around: except for Harry, who had stayed to attend the defeat of his cousin, there was no one else. So much for Dudley's gang's courage and fidelity. These were obviously not the primary qualities of the gang members in Big D's crew.

"What'll happen to you if he tells Aunt Petunia?" Harry whispered, supporting his cousin who was still unconscious.

"Assuming that he tells your aunt and uncle that he was beaten by his science teacher, who's a third of his weight, I can always threaten to tell the police where he and his gang keep their stash of cannabis …" Ed replied with a big smile.

"Anyway, it was amazing, the way you beat him, virtually effortless!" Harry said, thinking that despite his intelligence, which was worthy of Ravenclaw, Ed, if he could go to Hogwarts, could find his place both in Gryffindor or Slytherin.

"Everything is a circle. That's the essence of many martial arts. Energy does not disappear, it is re-used against your opponent," explained Ed, quoting his teacher, Izumi Curtis.

Suddenly, the light of the streetlamps and the surrounding area, including the stars, seemed to disappear as freezing fog began to invade the premises. Harry and Edward froze, feeling cold enter the marrow of their bones even though it was only August. The young alchemist thought for a moment that he was back in Briggs in winter. Harry had immediately recognized the sensation and became deathly pale. Dementors here, in Little Whinging. This couldn't be happening- but it was

Harry wasted no time wondering how or why these nightmarish creatures were here. The priority was to get out, knowing that there were two Muggles with him, one unconscious and the other unable to see Dementors and thus avoid them. He had to act fast. His wand in hand he tried to determine where the monstrous things would appear when he felt Ed pull his arm, muttering:

"Harry, what are those things?"

The young wizard turned and saw that a hundred meters away two Dementors were coming straight for them. He knew that at the speed they traveled, they would never have time to flee, especially if they were carrying Dudley who weighed a ton. But luck was on their side, maybe, because his cousin seemed to be waking up. Unfortunately, as he should have expected, his cousin panicked as soon as he felt the icy and deadly Dementors approach the trio; having only muscles in place of a brain, he found nothing better to do than try to hit his cousin, who was too distracted by the imminent arrival of the creatures to react. It was at that point he was thrown several meters back, landing in a stunned heap. The young wizard looked at Edward, who contemplated his hands with a puzzled look, seeming to ask: 'Was that me?' Unfortunately, it was then when the Dementors' influence began to reach them. Harry felt as though all of his happiness had evaporated, leaving only nightmares and death; next to him, Edward was paralyzed on the spot, eyes fixed, before he fainted like a puppet who'd had its strings cut.

Harry decided not to ask questions and waved his wand, muttering in a feverish tone: 'Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum', without results. A few images came back to his mind: Ron and Hermione together, trying to smile, and a more distant blurred picture of Edward, who seemed about to leave with a sad smile he had never seen him wear. Drawing from these images the strength he lacked, he launched the most powerful Patronus he could and was relieved to see a gigantic silver deer burst out of his wand and chase the Dementors away. The young wizard rushed to Ed: he was still unconscious, his face deathly pale, his heart seemed to beat weakly in short, staccato jolts. He was not in a good condition.

Harry's careful attempts to revive him were soon interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Figg. The young wizard did not even give her time to berate some Mundungus Fletcher before asking her why, since she was a witch who was watching him, had she not intervened earlier. The crazy old woman was a little surprised at Harry's question but nonetheless informed him that she was a Squib. The discussion that followed was a little rough. Apparently, the old Squib wanted him and Dudley brought home quickly and Ed left there so that the Obliviators could make him forget his meeting with Harry and the Dementors. For some unexplained reason, the old woman seemed very suspicious of Edward. Refusing to see a friend lose again his memory, Harry finally released the information he had learned:

"Mrs. Figg, Edward is a sorcerer."

"That's not possible, Harry. Dumbledore checked him already." The Squib replied flatly, perfectly remembering Minerva's account of the boy.

The Order had been more than surprised and suspicious when the child had landed in Little Whinging so close to the house of Harry Potter, and he had been under close surveillance when he made contact with the Boy Who Lived. But the young Edward was extremely stealthy, which was not surprising given his small size. Tonks and Kingsley, who had been watching him, were convinced that he knew he was being spied on, having seen the unnecessary detours he sometimes took. However, the boy had never shown the slightest hostility towards Harry, and since it was the latter who had approached him and made contact with him and not vice versa, as would a possible spy, there had been little need for suspicion. And one could hardly tell a wizard Harry's age who he should and should not hang out with.

"Mrs Figg, he could see Dementors and he did accidental magic," Harry said, sure of himself, "and Professor Lupin says that only wizards can do that."

"This really is a problem. I will inform the others," grumbled the old lady, who saw that Harry would refuse to leave if the former Muggle would be in danger. This posed quite a safety issue.

The arrival of Mundungus Fletcher allowed the Squib to relieve her stress by hitting the wizard with her bag. She ordered him to leave the boy near a Muggle hospital and warn Dumbledore while she and Harry returned Dudley.

* * *

Three days later, at night, Harry was lying on his bed, thinking back to recent events: his dismissal from Hogwarts, the disciplinary hearing, that he was indeed being monitored, and above all, the enigma that was Edward Elric. It was quite clear to him that Edward did not know he was a wizard: his love for the muggle sciences, his rationalism, that he favored unarmed combat, his non-reaction on hearing his name- yet he had known of the magical world (and no, despite what Snape said, he was not arrogant, it was a fact.) and above all, the surprise when his accidental magic had appeared. No one could fake that when they were encircled by Dementors and about to lose their soul.

Another thing- Edward's reaction to the Dementors approach. Until now, Harry knew no one, except himself, who had fainted so quickly. And he knew that it was the events of fourteen years ago that were responsible for his weakness against Dementors. What had Ed experienced to cause such a reaction? Maybe his friend was right to not want to return his memory, if his memories were so painful.

* * *

In a hospital bed, Edward Elric also thought back to past events: those creatures and the effect they had on him. In a moment, he had just thrown Dudley Dursley ten meters, without using alchemy; a second later, the worst memories of his life arose in his mind: the departure of his father, the death of his mother, his attempted human transmutation, the Gate, the transmuted abomination, the soul of his brother trapped in the armor, his automail operation, Nina turned into a chimera, the Xerxian souls in Envy, his impalement in the northern mines, the revelation of Father's plan, the Promised Day and the temporary death of the people of Amestris… The brute force of all those memories had struck him, and he had fainted to wake up two days later in a hospital bed, not knowing what had happened, and no news of Harry. He hoped he was alright.

A crack startled him and he automatically snapped into alert as the young alchemist leapt out of bed, refusing to be caught in a state of weakness. He slowly approached the door, ready to surprise an intruder ... and received a _Petrificus Totalus_ , compliments of a certain paranoid, retired Auror named Alastor Moody.

"You know, Mad-Eye, I do not believe that throwing spells at the people's heads is the best way to engage with others. We must use our proper manners," said a young woman with eccentric hair.

"It makes them more cooperative," declared the old Auror.

"Maybe, but that didn't help us here," whispered Remus Lupin. He saw that the boy was about to throw a huge tantrum and cast a silencio, which at least had the advantage of stopping the bucket load of insults the boy clearly wanted to pour out at them.

"We would like to ask you some questions, young man. You will accompany us without fuss, or would you prefer that we knock you out and do it anyway?" asked a wizard with dark skin, who looked at him seriously.

Edward rolled his eyes and gave him a look with a very clear meaning of, ' _Where do you see a choice in there, you_ [CENSORED]?', then nodded to indicate his agreement. Anyway, during his short life, he had received many 'invitations' to events he attended only under duress. He was beginning to wonder whether ultimatums were the only way to negotiate with him in the worlds he frequented. He followed the group quietly (they refused to take away the damn spell!), trying not to offend the wands that held him at a sort of gunpoint. They left the hospital and walked for about twenty minutes before arriving at 4 Privet Drive.

Besides Harry, the house was deserted for the time being. An overheard conversation revealed that the ever-so-fun group that had kidnapped him was there to escort Harry Potter to what they called headquarters. The green-eyed boy threw a questioning look at him. Ed rolled his eyes, took a few steps to show that he was under a spell and not here voluntarily. His friend seemed a little shocked by his presence (and everyone else, too) and a bit edgy, but he accepted the situation as if he knew the strange group. Ed therefore couldn't really hope for help from him, then.

Soon, everybody was outside with brooms they mounted one after the other. They made it clear to Edward that he had to climb behind Shacklebolt and hold on to him. The young alchemist absolutely did not understand the reason for this circus, but unfortunately he could not share his opinion about these crackpots. About the time green sparks began appearing, Ed felt the broom on which he was on begin to rise. Uttering a strangled cry that no one could hear, the boy hurried to grab the kind-of dress of the man in front of him to prevent an undoubtedly fatal fall from the height of dozens of meters they were in the air.

He opened his eyes again, and immediately wished he'd left them shut. They were flying at insane speeds on a flimsy broomstick. He clung harder to the person in front of him, not caring about how ridiculous he probably looked. He would not fall! If some crazy fool invented something that could fly in his world, he would say 'No, thank you!' and take the train! And the craziest part of it was that Harry seemed to enjoy this!

After a space of time that seemed far too long young alchemist, and several seemingly nonsensical detours that earned Moody Edward's eternal hatred, they finally arrived in London, landing in a park surrounded by shabby houses. Ed managed to untangle his fingers from where they were still clutching the broom after Kingsley landed. The young alchemist knelt on the floor and kissed it and whispered, apparently having found his voice during the trip: "O ye sweet dry land, I will never leave you" which drew a chuckle from Harry and a grunt of exasperation from Moody who grabbed him by his collar and placed him back on his feet. The group handed a paper to Harry, and soon they were able to enter the house that Edward recognized as the one he had arrived at during his entrance into this world.

He felt immediately spied on upon entering the lobby and looked up to see a redhead step back hurriedly. The redheaded woman from the last time soon arrived in haste and hugged Harry, almost suffocating him. To his regret, Edward had to pretend not to recognize her if he wanted to preserve the illusion that he was still under an Obliviate, which was a pity because she was one of the few people to have defended him here a month ago. To his surprise, she wanted to hug him, too, and the young alchemist, who was not really used to such an outpouring of affection since the death of his mother, instinctively recoiled. The so-called Lupin took her by the arm whispering, 'He forgot,' at which the woman stepped back with a look of pity.

Harry was led upstairs while Edward was escorted to the basement of the house, to the kitchen that he already knew. When he saw the group of people seated there, looking at him inquisitively, he thought ' _It is really not my day._ '

* * *

Translation Notes: That part where it says [CENSORED], it really does say censored in the French version. *shrugs* This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/09/17.

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Edward felt about as at ease as a convict in the electric chair. He watched, tense, all the faces that peered at him. He wanted to make a break for it, or to put up a fight, anything rather than stay here, standing, waiting for them to finally address him. Finally, the old man with the white beard from the last time, who seemed to lead this group finally spoke:

"Hello, Edward. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am aware that you want to know what you are doing here; the truth is that you've been here before, but you do not remember this."

Edward was ready to give him the expected answer, that he would remember if something like that had happened, when he realized it was a subtle trap, and replied instead:

"You mean you knew me before my amnesia?" he asked in an almost candid tone.

"No, Edward, I mean to tell you that you have actually had amnesia twice, one occasion of which we know nothing, and one that we caused to make you forget your coming here," Dumbledore clarified.

"With your weird sticks that made it so I couldn't talk or move? How did you do that?" Edward asked, trying to deflect the conversation to magic.

"By using magic, my boy," the old wizard replied with an amused smile, seeming to expect Ed's disbelief.

Ed decided not to disabuse him and replied:

"There's no such thing as magic."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes began to sparkle, and, as if he expected it, he waved his wand and a second later, the table was turned into a huge cow which began to moo; when some of the people at the table yelled at him, more or less discreetly, the old wizard waved his wand again, putting things in order.

"I must be dreaming or they gave me drugs at the hospital," Ed muttered, not really acting. He was shocked at what he had just seen: an inanimate object transformed into a living one. The Truth had told him that wizards were not bound by the principle of equivalent exchange, but he didn't think it was this much different.

"I can assure you that you're not. Magic exists, and all of us present here are wizards- and it seems, Edward Elric, that you are one too."

"Impossible," murmured the alchemist, without really listening, already mentally calculating the energy it would take to make the transformations he'd seen. If he used alchemy… only a Philosopher's Stone would be capable of matching Dumbledore's power!

"Apparently." Dumbledore confirmed. "You were able to see creatures that only magical beings can see. And Mr. Potter reported that you had used accidental magic shortly before that. I will now, if you do not mind, run a spell that will allow us to be sure."

A second later, Ed was struck by a spell. He thought to himself he should probably prevent this kind of thing from happening to him too often, otherwise one day it would pose problems for him. He was briefly crowned by a rather lively golden glow before it faded away.

"You are indeed a sorcerer and even a powerful one as far as I can judge. But the amazing thing is that when we launched this enchantment a month ago, there was no indication you were anything but a Muggle, a person devoid of magical power. I admit this intrigues me."

"Not as much as me," Ed muttered, casting a furious glance at the old wizard.

"But something intrigues me more, Edward. You're a wizard who was discovered a few steps from here, knowing that this house is supposed to be a place protected against our enemies. And we still do not know how you got here or who you are exactly. You understand that we have reason to be suspicious towards you, especially as you got to know Harry Potter, one of the people most directly threatened by our enemies."

"Uh, I didn't mean it?" Edward said hesitantly, suspecting that this kind of excuse did not work. He saw some of the audience giggle slightly at hearing his stupid answer. Why did the Truth have to make him a magnet for trouble in this world?

"Maybe it's a coincidence, but I confess to having lived too long to believe in those. Perhaps you are a spy sent here to infiltrate and harm us. It is also possible that you have been placed under the control of a powerful curse, and they then erased the memory of your being sent here to spy on us completely without your knowledge. Or, you have been targeted for some reason by our enemy and in this case, you'd be an innocent victim, besides many other possibilities," listed Dumbledore gravely. "You must understand, however, that we must absolutely remove the most dangerous hypothesis for us. I hope you forgive us."

'What?' Edward barely had time to think this before he felt his head suddenly seized by his long hair. Someone poured three drops of a tasteless liquid into his throat before releasing him. He still had time to kick his left leg into the tibia of his attacker and was rewarded with an 'ouch!' ' _What do I do now?_ ' Edward wondered before very brief thoughts that were not his appeared in his head. _'Veritaserum, truth serum. Use your most neutral voice and impassive behavior._ ' This was Truth's plan to keep the secret? He'd better hope he was a good actor.

"What is your name?" asked the man who had forced him to drink the potion, massaging his leg with a wince.

"Edward Elric," replied the alchemist. He tried to have an empty look in his eyes.

"Where are you from?" asked the old witch in the emerald dress.

"I do not know," he said in a monotonous voice.

"Are you in Voldemort's service or support his ideals?" Albus asked gravely.

"I do not know who he is or what his ideals are." Ed replied

"What are your intentions with regards to Harry Potter?" Lupin asked.

"He's a friend and I appreciate him."

"Do you have amnesia?" asked a man with long hair.

"Yes."

"What is your earliest memory?" Dumbledore asked.

"I woke up on the steps of a police station with an officer shaking me," Ed replied, wondering how long this little game would last but trying not to let any impatience show in his voice.

"Have you ever done magic?" asked the old wizard.

"I do not know," said Ed preferring to settle for answers as honest as possible.

"What do you think of us?" the man Edward had identified as Professor Snape at its last meeting asked sharply, anxious to check the veracity of the boy's words.

"I think you're a bunch of crackpots," said Ed, neutral, while trying not to burst out laughing at the wizards' responses to his answer.

"You do not get a more honest answer than that, Severus," Albus Dumbledore smiled before asking gently, "What do you remember after the Dementor attack?

"I do not know what Dementors are," Edward said, anxious to save time.

"The creatures who attacked you. They have the ability to revive one's worst memories."

"Separation death pain suffering fear unknowing pain deathshoutingsufferingfear _death_ ," intoned Ed, trying to keep a straight face.

"That's not what we were looking for…" Snape muttered, frowning.

"Severus, I think he has lived enough painful moments in his life to have been able to maintain a reliable memory, he's saying what he felt."

' _That's right, now, be nice and let the quiet traumatized boy be._ ' Edward had more and more trouble not getting excited.

"I think it would be good if the questioning stops here. It appears to be wearing off," Albus Dumbledore said.

"What did you do to me?" Edward growled. The potion had indeed worn off, and he was quite annoyed.

"An essential test to allow us to gauge the level of danger to which we've exposed ourselves by allowing you to enter here. I'm really sorry." apologized the old wizard, before adding, "We made you drink Veritaserum, which is-"

"From the Latin _veritas_ , truth, and serum ... A truth serum?" guessed the alchemist, already knowing the answer.

"That's correct," said Professor McGonagall, a little impressed by the deduction of the boy. "Now we know that at least you're not one of our enemies. Now, we must decide what we will do with you. If you had been a Muggle, the situation could have been resolved like last time, but since you're a wizard, things get a bit more complicated.

"Meaning?" Edward asked with a suspicious tone.

"You must know that normally, all wizards are detected at birth and are generally automatically enrolled in a school of witchcraft, unless their parents decide otherwise. The nearest one, which you should have been attending is called Hogwarts. By the time these wizards reach the age of 11 years, they have all been proven to be wizards by bursts of accidental magic. They have a place at Hogwarts. There are procedures to identify those who for one reason or another would have escaped the tracking spells. But you're an anomaly, Edward, because your magic has developed very late, at a relatively high age. To put it simply, by fifteen you should not be having any of this accidental magic, you should at least have control of it."

"So I won't be able to go to Hogwarts?" asked the boy, attentive.

"That will not be a problem, because I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts. However, the Ministry records all magical children at the age of eleven, based on our tracking system. Because you are not on their records, they could ask questions and conduct an investigation that could prove embarrassing," explained the Headmaster.

"For me or for you?" the prodigy asked with a wry smile.

"For the both of us," Dumbledore admitted. "So we would need to develop a story that explains your sudden appearance, and we must explain to you the intricacies of the wizarding world and begin your training to avoid questions about your lack of knowledge. Which would require that you stay here until September, which would be ideal because we have Hogwarts students here who might be able to help you."

"I see," Edward said, realizing this was an opportunity for them both.

' _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?_ 'The old wizard wanted him to stay here in order to be closely monitored. It was logical. Edward had spent three years in the army, a true nest of vipers, and he had managed to thwart a gigantic conspiracy to destroy his country: he knew it better than anyone else, thank you very much. He began to estimate aspects of this agreement: staying here and then going to school at Hogwarts meant he would have very little freedom of action. But if he refused the offer, it was very likely that he would be detained here, willingly or by force, without means to advance in his own mission. And if the Truth had seen fit to dump him here, close to what appeared to be an underground movement, it certainly was not for nothing. Here he could discover more.

"I'll go then," replied Edward, facing Dumbledore and looking him straight in the eyes.

"Wonderful. I will take care of the formalities of your enrolment and create an explanation for your presence. And tomorrow, we can begin teaching you magic. Meanwhile, I'll ask you to go get Harry from upstairs. He and his friends should be on the first floor. If you wanted some fresh air, I'm sorry but the door seems to be stuck, unfortunately."

Understanding that Dumbledore had dismissed him and he was strongly discouraged from leaving the house, Edward took the staircase without attempting to open the door. He could well imagine all sorts of vicious traps just with alchemy, who knows what these guys could do with magic. And anyway, it was not like he was truly trapped here: so long as he could use his hands, he could create an exit whenever he wanted.

He climbed the stairs and searched for the room where Harry could be found. He heard something and, by following the sound, found a room with a shut door. He sighed and knocked on the door. He opened it to see six pairs of eyes staring at him curiously before one of the girls, with bushy brown hair, began to bombard him with rapid fire questions.

"Are you the guy Harry told us about? Your name's Ed, right? Is it true that you're a wizard and have amnesia? Are you going to attend Hogwarts in September? Did they tell you about the war or Voldemort? Do you have any interesting information about what's going on?

The other teenagers seemed accustomed to this kind of reaction from their friend, going by the mischievous and a bit exasperated look they wore. Edward also knew what it was like to be in the dark without any information to understand what was happening was willing to tell her what he knew. He replied with a detached tone:

"Yes, yes, yes to both questions, yes, no to both questions and not really."

"That's the first time I've seen someone able to remember all the questions and answer Hermione," whispered a tall red-haired boy. Harry also smiled as the girl stopped, speechless.

"It's also the first time..." began one of redheads, slyly.,

"... I've seen someone able to get Hermione to stop asking questions," his twin finished smiling.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed the pair.

"I never thought we'd meet someone who knew less about what's going on than us," commented the last young redhead ruefully.

"Ed knows nothing of our world and even less about the war and Voldemort," Harry said. The others began to shiver hearing the cursed name.

"Why did you all freak out like that?" Ed said.

"You really don't know anything about You Know Who?" asked the tall redhead, stunned.

"No, I do not know who that is. That's who Voldemort is, right? Wouldn't it be easier to call him by his name?" Ed questioned, somewhat sarcastically.

"He's so scary that no one dares speak his name," Hermione said, ruefully.

"That's ridiculous," murmured the young alchemist, shaking his head.

"While I agree with you, I think it's only Dumbledore and I who call him by his name. Being afraid of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry said while his friends looked embarrassed.

"Well, could you tell me more about him, and magic? I don't know anything about it," Edward asked.

He soon regretted his request. After two hours, he had the impression of passing through the Portal of Truth again as the new body of information he had collected was enormous. They started by telling him about Voldemort and his attempted murder of Harry when he was one years old, When the story was over, seeing that he did not understand certain things, they explained to him the general history of the first war, which mixed still more history up and gave him an incredible headache. Even if all the information was completely confusing, it had nonetheless taught him certain things, if only about those around him.

Hermione, as far as he could tell, liked to read and was a bookworm much like Sheska, something he could respect as he was one himself, remembering the times when his knowledge was used to good effect.

Ron seemed to bring the magical information to the explanation, though was somebody who knew the world he lived in, but sometimes forgot some things weren't so obvious to those who hadn't been raised with it.

Harry seemed more able to tell things from and experienced point of view, which was not surprising because apparently for the past four years he had been at the centre of all possible incidents. Ed hadn't expected him to be as much of a trouble magnet as himself.

The twins were classified in the category of jokers, always seeking to make a joke or planning a new prank to play. A state of mind that Ed approved of for the moments while he was not the target.

Ginny was a girl who did not mince words, much like Winry, lively and with a strong temper. She seemed to speak naturally, but he could see that she was forcing herself a little when she spoke to Harry. Something to dig at, perhaps a crush on him.

Finally, seeing that the wild explanation would lead to nothing, he turned to Hermione, who would have the best chance to have what he wanted, and asked if by chance, she had books providing information for those unfamiliar with the magical world. The face of the girl brightened as if she had found a soul mate and she ran out of the room, regardless of Ron's mumbled 'That's it, he's created a monster.' She returned a few moments later, her arms full of books- a stack so tall Ed couldn't see her face behind it. She smiled broadly and said;

"These are all books that have helped me over the last four years with my introduction into the magical world. Of course, you will not be able to read everything now, but I'll give you them all right now, that way it will be easier. Personally, I'd advise you read this one first: The Wizarding World for Dummies and Muggles. The title is despicable, but other than that, this is one of the most complete books that lists the features of the wizarding world. There is also this one, a guide for beginning wizards. The writing is a bit childish as it's written for eleven-year-old wizards, but it is very complete. And this one…"

The girl was so immersed in her inventory of all these works, she had not even realized that Edward had settled on the bed, the first recommended book in hands, already immersed in his reading and unresponsive to the outside world at all. Ron seemed devastated to see that there was a male equivalent of Hermione. It was past midnight and Ed had already read half of the book when Mrs. Weasley knocked on the door to announce that dinner was ready. The group of teens had the sudden simultaneous realization they had not eaten in hours and rushed downstairs. The witch, noticing that Edward did not follow the mass exodus, urged him to get up. The young alchemist, still immersed in his reading, got up and came down the stairs without missing a step or looking up from his book.

Finally, he sat down, without noticing the racket caused by Mrs. Black, nor the twins' disastrous attempt to bring food to the table. He did not see how many eyes rested on him, somewhat bewildered by such a concentration. Even Hermione looked stunned. He picked things at random from his plate, not seeming to really know what he ate, turning a page between bites, his eyes not spending one second away from the book. Yet he managed to avoid drinking the glass of milk in front of him, without a second thought about Mrs. Weasley throughout the meal.

At the end of the dinner, Ed announced he had reached the end of his book. When he finally looked up stating that it was very good, everyone wondering if he was talking about the meal or the book. Hermione seemed on the verge of apoplexy, staring at him with jealousy and finally asked him.

"Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

"Not me," Edward said as he remembered fondly good old Sheska and her prodigious gift of remembering all the books she read.

"So how could you read that book so fast?"

"By concentrating, I can select and retain only the information that interests me. Well, there's a bit more to it, but anyway where are the other books?" Ed asked, rising from the table.

As he climbed upstairs, he overheard the conversation between the adults and children of the Order, who apparently wanted to be informed of events. Knowing in advance that he would not be invited, he entered the waiting room with all the books, all while making a mental map of the house. Once locked in the room, he clapped his hands and used the pipes that roamed the wall to make his own personal monitoring system, opened a small notebook and began to carefully note the intercepted information. He did not understand much of it, but in a few days he hoped that this would all make sense.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley led him and all his books to a room on the top floor. It was quite small, but with a cozy bed. With the pleasure of the company of a huge book, Hogwarts: A History, Ed settled in for a long read.

* * *

Original Author's Note: So you understand, Edward, unlike Sheska, has no photographic memory and I refuse to give him one. As Al says, he has a great capacity for concentration and selection of unique information and a good memory. It is these elements that make him such a genius and other features which will be mentioned in a later chapter. It's hard for me not to turn Edward into a Gary Sue as he frankly lot going for it! That's why I gave him a morbid fear of brooms ...

* * *

Translation notes: Interesting fact, _prendre ses jambes à son cou_ (to take one's legs to their neck) is a French idiom that means to run or escape. I translated this as 'make a break for it' for the purposes of keeping the meaning and using a similar idiom. This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/10/17


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, at about eight o'clock in the morning, Hermione headed for the top floor of the Black house to look for the room the newcomer, Edward Elric, was occupying. She flung open the doors of the corridor at random before finding the one she wanted. She opened it ... before uttering a strangled cry and just as quickly slamming it shut and fleeing, red-faced and mortified. Behind her, through the door, echoed the voice of the boy: "You could have knocked!"

A few minutes later, the door opened again to allow room for a now much more dressed boy to exit. He looked at her with a half-grumpy, half-mocking smirk. Still blushing, not daring to look at him, she quickly delivered her message (namely, that he was expected downstairs for breakfast and Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to him) before leaving. Edward shook his head, a little confused- after all, it wasn't like he was naked...

Hermione descended the stairs without really looking where she was going, which was why she ran into Tonks with a thud as the two knocked heads and grimaced in sync.

"Well, Hermione, usually I'm the one who's clumsy!" exclaimed the young Auror, quickly regaining her good humor.

"I just went to see Edward to tell him that Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk. I forgot to knock and ..." Hermione whispered. Her face still seemed to be trying to compete with a tomato.

"You saw him shirtless and he wasn't hard on the eyes?" the metamorphmagus asked with a knowing wink.

"Yes- well, no, that wasn't the only problem," Hermione protested, flushed, before calming and resuming with a more serious tone. "He was shirtless, doing push ups and I had the time to see- the only person who has more scars than he does is Professor Moody, even Harry doesn't have that much. And one of them, on his stomach… It seemed that he had been pierced by something very large. It was horrible!"

"I see," said the Auror in an unusually serious tone. "When we found him the first time, he had open wounds, but nothing that bad. I'll say something to Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded and continued down the stairs still thinking of what she had seen all too precisely: the enormous, dark scars on the boy's left side; the scar that surrounded his right shoulder; the white circle shape on his left bicep; not to mention the small cuts that dotted his chest… She felt horrible just thinking about the pain he must have had to endure, not to mention his reaction to the Dementors Harry had described to her. Except, according to him, he did not remember anything. And to think that she was jealous of him when she saw his ability to read and remember! ' _I wish I was dead!_ '

* * *

After breakfast, Edward went to meet Professor Dumbledore who informed him that they were going to Gringotts, in Diagon Alley. The young alchemist now knew that was the wizarding bank, run by goblins, and that Diagon Alley was a section of Magical London reserved for witches with all kinds of stores. After taking care to take some books with him in a bag, he followed the Headmaster, but noticed that he carefully avoided Harry who seemed to want to speak to him. This behavior seemed strange from someone who said he wanted to protect the young prodigy, but Ed preferred to remain silent, knowing that they would not tell him anything.

Moments later, they reached the bank; Dumbledore conversed briefly with a goblin (Ed carefully avoided staring too much, they had the same look as him when he tried to get money from Mustang). After that, Dumbledore was ushered into the office of the Director of Gringotts while Edward was sitting on an uncomfortable bench, reading a thick volume on the history of Magical England, observing from time to time the multiple doors from which came wizards, accompanied by a goblin. The sight was almost more interesting than the book; as extravagant as some of the outfits were, he hoped with all his heart that robes were not mandatory at Hogwarts.

After half an hour, Dumbledore left the office with a small silver key in hand. He explained to the boy that this was the key to his account, which contained the sum of three hundred and fifty Galleons, the scholarship offered by Hogwarts students unable to pay the seven-year course of their schooling. This was fifty Galleons a year, which would mean he would have to buy most of his supplies used. When he was a State Alchemist, Ed was rather lavish when it came to giving to others, while being incredibly stingy when it came to purchasing common things or repaying debt. He therefore believed that he could get by easily. Dumbledore informed him that Mrs. Weasley had offered to give him some of Ron's old books, which would save him quite a bit, especially knowing that the average price of a school book was eight Galleons.

As they prepared to leave the bank, they were stopped by a "Albus!" in a voice both old and vigorous. They turned to see a very old man, with white hair and golden eyes, brought out by a face ravaged by wrinkles. He seemed even older than Dumbledore, which was not easy. Dumbledore lit up and replied with a warm "Nicolas!"

"How are you, my friend?" the wizard asked softly, a little saddened.

"The end is near, I would say in a week, we'll die. Our business is now in order and Pernelle and I will soon finally go to bed."

"In that case, would you like a nightcap? Oh, I forgot, I present to you Edward Elric, a young wizard who just arrived here in London. Edward, I want you to meet Nicolas Flamel, an alchemist who invented the Philosopher's Stone"

Edward had trouble not showing his feelings: he hoped with all his heart that here, in this world, the philosopher's stone was something other than a mass of torn souls forced from their bodies. After all, if magic was so powerful … A look crossed the old man's eyes, a look that he had seen with his father: that of an ageless man who had seen too much, acquired too much knowledge. He shuddered imperceptibly. The old man seemed to stare at him attentively, which strengthened both the unease and the fascination of the young alchemist, who wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. But unfortunately, the French alchemist accepted the invitation and the small group was soon seated in a pub, discussing this and that. Then Dumbledore asked jokingly:

"So, Nicholas, are you finally tell me the solution to your riddle?"

"Alas, no, Albus. You've already had your chance, and I will carry this secret to my grave" said the old alchemist in a firm tone.

"What secret?" Edward could not help asking before insulting himself mentally for his impatience.

"The meaning behind my symbol, young man. Whenever I meet an interesting person, I ask him what the meaning behind my emblem is. If they answered correctly, I will reveal my secret to him," explained the old man.

"It's the symbol known as the Flamel, the snake nailed to the cross. I had speculated that this was evil nailed to the cross of knowledge," Dumbledore added.

"Maybe you'd like to try your hand at this guessing game, young man," Nicolas Flamel suggested, fixing him with a curious look.

Edward hesitated. It wasn't alchemy itself, and it didn't reveal anything about its origin. But the story behind this symbol was so painful: Izumi, Alphonse, probably his father, Roy Mustang, and now he even felt what was behind this nailed snake. He pretended to think for a few minutes on the riddle before taking his notebook and a pen from his bag and began to draw the symbol while telling his tale:

"There was once a man who had devoted his life to seeking knowledge. He drew the snake as the meandering curves of a road. One day, believing himself wiser than the common man, he was tempted to think himself equal to God and defiled his field. He designed the wings and the crown. But God punished him for his pride and arrogance. He designed the cross and nailed the snake to it. And the man had to bow to the power of the Truth." He finished by drawing the head of the snake, bent downwards.

"Well, Edward, I never expected you to be so religious," Dumbledore said with a gleam in his eyes before realizing that his friend was staring at Edward, transfixed.

"You have guessed correctly," the alchemist muttered before getting up with a leap and asking his old friend: "Albus, I'm sorry, but he must come with me to my room at the Leaky Cauldron. This is of the utmost importance."

"Edward is my responsibility and I must accompany him-" Albus began before interrupting himself at seeing the look his friend sent him, telling him he knew that it was only a pretext. He acquiesced, wondering again on the mystery of Edward Elric: who had just figured out a secret that was six centuries old.

Minutes later, Ed was in a comfortable room at the Leaky Cauldron. In the large canopy bed, he could see an old lady with nigh-translucent wrinkled skin who watched him with gray eyes. Nicolas Flamel leaned over and whispered something in her ear. The old woman smiled with a kind smile and introduced herself as Pernelle, then pulled out a wand from her pocket, waved it in several large movements before putting it back into her pocket. The venerable alchemist thanked his wife at a glance and then he turned to Ed.

"Sorry, but I wanted to be sure that no one can listen to our conversation. Albus probably does not think it evil listening in on our conversation, but some things do not do to be heard by the ears of the world."

"You passed from the world of alchemy to this one by the Gate of Truth, correct?" Edward asked.

"Only me. About 700 years ago, I was a resident of Xerxes, considered the greatest alchemist of all time and one who committed the unforgivable sin at the age of forty. I wanted to prove that human transmutation was possible and that I was able to transgress the established laws, not even for the love of a lost loved one, but out of pride, to see my name remain engraved in history forever as the one who had conquered death. I then received the appropriate punishment for my insult. As punishment, my very existence was erased from the memories of men. I, who had done so much to be known, was sent here also knowing that I would never have a natural heir."

Edward looked puzzled for a moment before understanding hit him. He suppressed a wince. 'Ouch!' He hoped that that kind of thing would never happen to him.

"I came into this world and I rebuilt my life here by passing my alchemic talent as magic. One day, more than 600 years ago, I decided to accept a pupil to prevent alchemy's disappearance from this world, and I taught him all my knowledge. He was a brilliant man, but one who was as proud as I once was. He thought that alchemy could enable him to achieve immortality. For years, I fooled myself about his intentions, until one day, I found his work on an evil artefact, the Philosopher's Stone. "

"Let me guess again. It consists of human lives in this universe, too?" Edward asked wryly. Now he understood better why the Truth had forbidden him to reveal the secrets of alchemy and its origin to wizards.

"It has also been created in your world? That horror really has no limits. I wanted to prevent this disaster, so I rushed to the village of 600 souls where he had planned to commit his crime. There was a fight in the middle of the transmutation circle, which had been activated, but not before I killed my pupil. When dawn broke I realized that all the souls of this village had merged into me. "

"I sympathize," Ed said gravely. He remembered the haunted look of his father when he spoke of the captive people within him.

"The only thing that kept me from falling into madness was the presence of my wife by my side. She was the only person to whom I've given immortality by giving her my blood. I have not tried since to teach alchemy to anyone, even to my friend, Albus. I know human nature and I know that no one is infallible. However, towards the end of my life, I gave him a stone to lure Voldemort. I was hoping that with my stone contributing to his destruction, maybe I could reduce my sin. And so now here I am at the end of my life's journey and I can finally die."

"If you want, I can tell you my story. Truth forbade me to tell the people of this world, but as you come from mine ..."

For the next two hours, Edward narrated his story, from his human transmutation to the proposal from the Truth and his arrival in the world. The old alchemist listened, fascinated, but also saddened when he learned of the genocide of his homeland. At the end, he looked at him with respect. A boy of barely sixteen, who had found the solution to a problem that had tormented him for centuries. He now understood why the Truth had chosen this child: he had the imagination and genius to find a solution without having to sacrifice his principles and ethics. He had integrity, understanding, determination, compassion, and above all he had learned from his mistakes. Now the boy was facing a substantial problem in the form of Voldemort, a being that rumor claimed was immortal, surrounded by his Death Eaters in a corrupt magical society.

But maybe he could help.

"My child, I am about to die and I won't be able to help you. However, if you have an idea of what I could do now, tell me."

"I don't think there is anything you can do. Experience has shown me that to solve a problem, you have to literally attract trouble, be at the centre of events. I would never have discovered Father's conspiracy if the Homunculus weren't interested in me. Maybe if I showed my ability to use alchemy, it would attract their attention..." Ed said thoughtfully.

"In this case, I have an idea. As I understand it, it does not bother you that you're being targeted by people who might torture you or possibly kill you to discover your secrets?" the old man asked with a sly smile.

"Apparently, the Truth has taken precautions to prevent this. If I am, I would be unable to reveal anything, and right now I'm prepared for it," Edward Elric shrugged.

"In this case, I must ask you for two things: one drop of your blood, and a small signature at the bottom of this. I guarantee you that in a week, you will attract unwanted attention."

Edward obeyed while wondering what the old alchemist was going to do, hoping that it would not be too problematic. He then took his leave of the couple, happy to have had a few hours talking with a person from his world, even if he was a few centuries old. He went down the stairs and found himself facing Dumbledore, who was watching him with great curiosity. So he decided to solve the problem immediately, saying he had solemnly promised to reveal nothing of his conversation with Nicolas Flamel, silently challenging the old wizard to compel it out of him. The latter did not ask again, and offered to get lunch, as it had already been hours since they had begun their shopping.

* * *

After lunch, the young alchemist slipped away from his chaperone and ran towards the bank. There, he asked a goblin at the counter if it was possible to transfer the Muggle money he had earned through his tutoring during the summer to his wizarding account. The goblin easily accepted when he saw the money. Edward had worked hard for almost one month, seven hours a day, six days a week to be independent. He had earned close to three thousand pounds, the equivalent of five hundred and fifty Galleons, which would allow him to be a little more comfortable financially. The transfer was quickly done and Edward now had a small fortune of nine hundred Galleons. He had never intended to tell the old wizard he had earned so much, after all, technically, he had no relatives here and he was a minor. It was not normally up to him to work to pay his own tuition.

Then he snuck back to where Dumbledore was still perusing at a supply store. For once, his little- no, average! size was useful. The duo soon returned to the bustle of Diagon Alley to wrap up their shopping. They began with the robes, favoring second-hand shops. Edward's protests and rants were useless, robes and ridiculous hats were part of the Hogwarts uniform. He buried the unfortunate salesgirl in a barrage of expletives when she made the mistake of saying he was small for his age. He spent two hours in the book shop; Dumbledore had to almost force him out he was so immersed in the shelves. He spent the vast majority of his money on books, among those used, and nearly caused gave the salesgirl a nervous breakdown negotiating the price of each book before he agreed to give her a wholesale price. He tried to do the same in the apothecary, but with less success, its owner being used to the ways of the Slytherins in general and Severus Snape in particular.

Dumbledore thought with amusement that Edward Elric was soon to be known throughout the Alley, as conspicuous as he was with his untimely posturing, his way of discussing prices down to the knut, his noise and tantrums. At the same time, it was pretty impressive from someone who had just been introduced to the wizard monetary system to be negotiating his purchase with a Scottish mage. Maybe the boy had experienced poverty at some time in his life.

He wondered if he could find a way to get Edward to trust him. The answer seemed obvious when he saw the owlery where Harry had bought his owl, Hedwig. The boy seemed surprised that Albus wanted to give him a present and so firmly refused the first two times before eventually accepting. Edwards choice was a Eurasian pygmy owl with brown plumage mottled with lighter spots, golden eyes, and a bad temper according to the seller. Dumbledore thought it was unnecessary to tell Edward that this was one of the smallest owls in the world. Anyway, birds of a feather flock together was the proverb, hilariously apt in this situation. Ed named it Aletheia.

Now it was time to buy a wand for Edward so he could begin his training. They entered the shop; Dumbledore had a quiet talk with the owner before telling Edward that he had important business to attend to, and therefore would come back in a few hours via the Floo. The young alchemist nodded absently, while looking around the inside of the shop with curiosity. Ollivander, an old man with silver eyes watched him intently without commenting on his stature, to the delight of Ed. Then, he began to offer him wands. It was at this point that things got worse.

None seemed to match, and each seemed to have a pretty strong, if not violent, reaction when he wove it. The old man seemed more delighted as time went on, saying that he loved a difficult customer. Edward, much to the amusement of Ollivander, began to grow impatient with the process, and spent an hour on a bench with a book, waving any wand handed to him and causing a big mess in the shop.

Finally, the old wand manufacturer stared his young customer in the eye, so very carefully trying to understand his personality by the look in it without resorting to Legilimency. He was surprised because he rarely saw that kind of look in someone so young. The golden eyes reflected a kind of wisdom and experience that only life could give, not the books the young wizard seemed so fond of. Ollivander understood that, for once, a normal wand with one of the three traditional hearts would not do. The boy had something extra which interfered with his magic which would force him to use the more rare or eccentric wands, inherited from his ancestors, before he had revolutionized wand-making.

He opened the drawer and selected a dozen sticks, which he placed on the counter and presented the first, a thirty centimeter Sombral hair, ebony, very peaceful. The boy raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised at the change in Ollivander's approach. No sooner had he held the wand then it literally fell from his hands. The second consisted of a feather of a Sphinx, olive wood. Slightly more promising. Chimera hair in turtle shell had some similarities but that was not it. Finally, he arrived, at last, on the wand that he truly hesitated to bring out, the oldest artefact treasured since the founding of this business, which is respected in the family more than the Elder Wand. The first wand ever manufactured, still preserved, that had inspired generations of Ollivander manufacturers. If this didn't work, he would have known his first failure and would be forced to redirect his client to Gregorovitch, a humiliation which he would not recover from.

The boy, a bit bored, grabbed the stick and seemed surprised by the warmth emanating from the instrument. There were no big demonstrations of power, with fireworks or multicolored sparks flying in all directions, just a simple stream of white and golden sparks. Ollivander was almost disappointed. But, obviously, this was the one for this boy. As he reluctantly gave it to him, he decided to tell the story of this wand.

"In 400 BC, the first Ollivander sought to create an instrument that would allow sorcerers to fully master magic. He left his home and travelled for years, accumulating knowledge about magic, but without success. One day, after hearing Muggle legends, he went to the region between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers but became lost in the desert. He took refuge in a cave and found himself before an immense sealed gate."

'What a coincidence…"' Edward thought sardonically while the old man continued his story:

"He begged the gate for help, explaining his goal, willing to do anything for it. He was allowed to enter, provided he stay there for an hour. My ancestor then discovered behind the door a fantastic garden, all existing species of plants and creatures of the world, magical or not. In short, the dream of a wand designer. He reached the heart of the garden- there stood two intertwined trees. On one of them was nailed a huge snake. A strange being appeared, and said that those who seek knowledge would normally have had to pay a price, but it would reduce it to one condition. It detached a branch from both trees and then they merged; It removed the scales of the dead snake and inserted them in the wand. It handed the wand to him, and asked him to give it as a last resort to the one who needs it. When my ancestor woke up, he had become dumb, but knew how to make wands. He transmitted his knowledge to his children only by gestures and the artefact that was given to him and thus his knowledge was passed from generation to generation."

Edward was silent, thinking that he would have two words to say to the Truth if he made it out of here alive. Because he himself knew what had happened. He wondered if his coming here was planned for a long time or if the Truth had only created this wand for those who crossed the door for a mission. He preferred not to think about it.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the fireplace flare up and eject Dumbledore in a hurry.

"Have you found your wand?"

"As I always say, Albus, it is the wand that chooses the wizard. Mr. Elric was a very difficult client, but one of my oldest wands did the trick. Apple wood shell, Naga centre, 21 centimetres. A magnificent and very rare combination that will cost him ten galleons. Let him take care of it," said the old wand-maker, giving Edward a warm but serious glance, telling him not to tell Dumbledore of the history of the wand.

"Um, thank you, sir," Edward said. Dumbledore then apparated the two out of the shop.

He now had everything he would need. It was time to start his education in magic.

* * *

Original author's note:

Well, first of all, let's start with a few remarks:

The encounter between Nicolas Flamel and Edward: First, notice that he did not use magic, but it's his wife who initiated the privacy spell. Flamel was content to study magic theory to imitate it through alchemy. I obviously gave him a Xerxian origin, with golden eyes (his hair turned white due to old age).

The interpretation of the Flamel symbol (the snake on the cross) is exactly how I see it: knowing that Izumi Curtis and Al have the same symbol, I decided that only those who have passed through the Gate of Truth truly know the meaning of the sign of Flamel. I hope that this interpretation (completely mine) does not annoy you.

For his punishment because of the human transmutation ... Hmm ... Sometimes I tell myself that I must have been in a castrating mood when I wrote this chapter ... But I could not imagine a better punishment for a man seeking to establish his seed in the world. Mind you, in the end, he succeeded in the wizarding world once he became wiser.

I may be singing the praises of Edward a bit too much in this chapter, but we must recognize that finding the solution to save his brother by sacrificing his alchemy makes him a true genius. Even his father, who's 400 years old, and all other alchemists have not managed to get out of sacrificing a life for a life.

The name of the owl, Aletheia, is Greek and has a special significance which shows the great sense of irony Edward has. What is the translation?*

For the wand ... obviously I could not give Edward a normal wand, that would have been too simple ... And you will see that even with this wand, it will not be simple. But I will say no more, nyah nyah nya nya nyah!

For Ollivander's story ... I got a little inspiration from the book of Genesis and the story of creation. The two trees are the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil; the snake, you probably know ... To give you a crash course, the story of Genesis can be summarized as: an apple, two good pears and a lot of seeds ... (I could not help myself).**

Just know that I will not make any attempt at interpretation of the manga. I do not have any intention to make a confusion between the conception of God in the Bible or in the manga, it would make no sense. I have no intention or desire to make fun of religion.

In reality, I have researched the symbolism of normal tree species in finding something that I like, though I had to fall back on the "supernatural" trees. I could just as well have chosen Yggdrasil, the Norse mythological world tree, but the Vikings were polytheistic, which would not have worked well. So it fell on the two trees in Genesis and the element of the snake. It seemed too simple, so I embellished on it.

* * *

Translator's notes:

*This is a rhetorical question, it doesn't state what the translation is. However, a quick google search reveals it means 'truth'.

**This is a bad, groan worthy pun. A good pear is a sucker or gullible person, and the word for seeds, pépins, can also translate as a glitch or mistake)

No big problems this chapter. Fun fact, in the French translations of Harry Potter, Voldemort's name is Tom Elvis Jedusor, so it can spell Je suis Voldemort. Jedusor also sounds like jeu du sort, or a riddle of fate. This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/12/17

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

August 8

It had been two days since Edward Elric began his training as a wizard and so far, nothing great had happened.

Hermione had been asked by Dumbledore to oversee teaching the new wizard, and she had really taken her mission to heart, determined to show that she could teach Ed. Harry had informed her that Edward was a prodigy among Muggles and she had no doubt that, together, they would be able to complete more years of education than they would at Hogwarts.

She really made every effort to make it work: she had decided that they would work at the library; without any interference from the other wizards, she had composed a full review program for Edward's courses, had selected all relevant books, she even asked for advice from Professor McGonagall about her teaching methods. She was certain of success; however, she had failed to take into account one major problem.

Edward was self-taught. He was allergic to regular classes. It was a trait he also shared with Alphonse, both had made their teachers crazy until they had finally left before the transmutation. Wise beyond their years, they could not pay attention in class without their minds getting distracted by alchemy equations. As an autodidact, he was struggling to accept a strictly planned training program which left him with no say in what he learned.

Aside from his year of learning with Izumi Curtis, he had taught himself the basics of alchemy and had progressed virtually alone after his human transmutation to the point of reaching the level of a master, someone who could claim to be the equal of the alchemist/housewife, even surpassing her on some points. And, by being a State Alchemist, he had the equivalent academic credit to a college degree. Here, he knew nothing and was treated as such. However, even if he knew nothing of magic he refused to be treated as an eleven-year-old.

But the most serious problem was the rate of learning. The first day, after a day spent reproducing ridiculous wand movements and pronouncing idiotic phrases, he ended up getting upset at Hermione's refusal to explain how it worked. He left in a huff, slamming the door and taking all of Hermione's books with him. During the night, he had spent hours working to perfectly reproduce the listed movements and precisely reciting the Latin spells from four different books. In the morning, he gave a perfect demonstration which stunned his private tutor. But then a new problem showed itself: no spell worked.

His wand did nothing, refusing to respond to any spell, even easy ones like _Lumos_. It was incredibly frustrating for the boy who had started teaching himself alchemy from the age of three. But still, no spell worked. He had tried everything: calming down, getting excited, trying other wand patterns, but nothing. He did not understand why it wasn't working.

The two-young people had been arguing for quite a while in a very noisy way: for Hermione, the problem was that Edward did not put proper effort in. According to Edward, it was because she was not quite clear in her explanations and didn't show why it worked well for her. Furious to see her teaching qualifications challenged when she was just repeating Professor Flitwick and McGonagall's lessons, she had insulted Ed by saying that he might not be as great a genius he thought. Dead furious*, they left the library only to see that everyone had heard their dispute, which led to them trying to explain the fight in their own words.

Thus, the reason for the small meeting between Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, former Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore that evening to discuss Edward's difficulties. The Transfiguration teacher had carefully questioned her best student to find out what could be blocking the two teenagers' progress. Professor Dumbledore had been trying, meanwhile, to question Edward. The teen had thrown a tantrum, saying that "Magic is illogical and incomprehensible and that the first step to do something is to understand it!" before leaving the room in a huff to take refuge in his room, presumably to console himself with Aletheia. Hearing the summary of those conversations, Professor Snape sneered and concluded:

"That's what happens when you put two so-called geniuses in the same room."

"Come on," the lycanthrope tried to placate the Potions Master. "This is probably a misunderstanding. Edward must be stressed and Hermione can sometimes be over emotional."

"I'm afraid not, Remus," sighed Professor McGonagall. "Edward perfectly illustrates why we begin to educate children at the age of eleven. That is the age when they have the capacity to start understanding magic's use but still have enough imagination, especially for Muggleborns, to be satisfied with the explanation 'it's magic!'. Until their sixth year, they learn to repeat wand forms and say spells properly, and we only give the most basic theories to explain magic."

"But we do not teach them the 'why'" said Albus Dumbledore softly. "We do not explain to them why the magic works and what are its laws, where does the magic come from. We just show them how. And for a boy like Edward Elric, a prodigy in Muggle science, who needs to understand things before doing them, our method is catastrophic, for a person like him. I think even at eleven he would have had difficulty adapting to it. "

"In that case, what can we do? We can not teach him ourselves and keep up with the duties of the Order," protested Professor Lupin.

"There is one solution," suggested Professor Snape musingly. "Give him all the books on magical theories in the archives. And maybe later subscribe to specialized magazines such as _Metamorphosis News_ or _New Magical Discoveries Journal_ **. This would provide some information on the operation of magic."

"There's no way that would work, Severus! Those books are centuries old, some older than a millennium! They are reserved for those who have completed their schooling for at least ten years and have a Masters in Arcanium. On top of that, they are written in Latin or Greek. Edward can't read either and it would take us too long to translate!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall, shocked by the proposal of her colleague.

"I suspect Edward Elric tried to hide the full extent of his knowledge ... In fact, I suspect him to be fluent in Latin and Greek, although they are dead languages: he has a perfect accent when he pronounced magic words and named his owl Aletheia. Maybe those are mere coincidences, but I think he is multilingual, in addition to being a genius."

"He takes great care of the books entrusted to him and he seems very intelligent. It might be a solution. On the other hand, I would not have expected to hear you defend him, Severus." said Albus Dumbledore, eyes sparkling teasingly.

"I can recognize genius when I see it and in my opinion there are two kinds: those who are gifted in the classroom, which just show that they can reproduce what they are shown, or who have a capacity to retain what we tell them. They are little better than imitating monkeys and I think you know the type I mean."

"Why, Severus, I know that Miss Granger annoys you but-" reproached the old teacher.

"I just admitted that she is a genius in this field and it's not enough for you, Minerva?" sneered Professor Snape mockingly. "The second category is the genius natural to those who learn on their own, who select what they learn and construct their own knowledge. Among this category, we can include the self-taught, which certainly includes Elric. His problem is that he wants to understand something that is, at first glance, irrational and incomprehensible. He will not be able to cast one spell before understanding how it works."

"Where did you pull that from?"

"That's for you to find out, Minerva," Severus replied with a smirk.

"We'll have to test your hypothesis, Severus." Albus whispered before admitting the rest of the Order for the official meeting.

* * *

Two days later, Edward was sitting alone in the library with a gigantic book dating from 1453 on the theory of the origin of Magic. Beside him, on his right, a stack of many similar books, and to his left, his own notebook in which he recorded his theories. Reading the impressive work, he frowned, trying to make the connection between his own knowledge and that of the magical world. He began to write his thoughts in his native language to avoid the risk of them being read, as a precaution, he even used the same code he used to encrypt his alchemy notes:

 _According to these books, the energy source of magic would be twofold: it comes from both the soul energy of the wizard and electrical current passing through the Earth, mixing principles of the philosopher's stone and the Dragon's Pulse from Xing._

 _Wizards are apparently the only ones who know how to subconsciously merge these energies and thus give themselves the incredible properties of magic._

 _But it is not enough to explain such an imbalance in the principle of equivalent exchange._

 _I know what it's like to have to use the energy of a soul like a philosopher's stone. But if wizards used the energy of their soul, their life expectancy would decrease. However, instead of that, it is longer than the average Muggle, and telluric energy cannot lengthen lifespan. Otherwise, alchemists would live as long as wizards._

 _Conclusion: there must be another source of energy that I do not know about yet ..._

 _Wait a minute! On the Promised Day, the Homunculus said something about the Portal of Truth. Those who have committed human transmutation have in them the energy of the Gate, which is much more powerful. And when that Portal is open... The energy of five sacrifices was able to open those on Earth and the sky. It had to be enormous, to the point that he needed the power of the souls of fifty million people to restrain it. An energy that can reproduce nuclear fusion. This might be able to explain magic's almost unlimited power!_

 _When the equation is:_

 _E(Dragon Pulse) + E(soul of the sorcerer) + E(The Gate) = almost unlimited power!***_

 _Ergo, witches thus have access to the energy of the Portal of Truth!"_

 _But where is the damn Portal?_

 _The most important thing is that I know it exists and therefore, in theory, I would be able to use its energy._

 _Subsidiary question: How is it used?_

 _The wand movements, dummy!_

 _Now that I think of it... the wand movements. Let's see my list of spells. Now if they are classified according to the movement of wands... That's what I thought ... Many of the movements are based on circular motions The circle is the basis of many things. Thank you, Teacher! Others look like runes like those that are written on a circle. These movements could include symbols within circles ..._

 _That, I understand. What I do not understand, however, is how come all these wizards can use magic without understanding what they do. Albeit, Al and I could use alchemy when we were four years old before Teacher explained the theory to us... But now it's not me doing it._

 _Let's see. Now what do I have to do?_

 _The energy of the earth, I know that. The energy of the soul ... the soul ... that's what makes up our being. Feelings, will, intellect. If I put myself in the same mindset as when I practice alchemy, the same determination and willingness, with an understanding of what is at work..._

 _And finally, the energy of the door. How do I access that?_

 _Wait a minute! Truth said he could make me a wizard and he did it in a snap. So I can use that energy as a wizard._

"Edward? It's time for dinner!" Exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.

"One minute, ma'am!"

The boy raised his wand and said in a clear voice ' _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ' to one of his books. Nothing. Heaving a frustrated groan, he rubbed his temples: he was sure it would work this time. Unless...

Determination and desire- he had those. An understanding of what was behind the spell: ' _levitation spell, this will result in virtually negating the force of gravity, which would result in the equation…'_ That's right, he had it. Then the magic act itself. _Remember the feeling of the Promised Day, and..._

In the kitchen, the Order members heard a terrified scream from the library. Everyone rushed out of the kitchen to room that had been haunted for the past hours by Edward Elric, wondering what he was doing in there. Sirius entered first and stopped short- the room was completely empty apart from Edward. He clung to his wand. He had a sallow complexion, was gasping for air, and trembling all over. He screamed "Don't come in!" in a resounding and thoroughly frightened voice. The Azkaban escapee asked what had happened. The boy was content to look up at the ceiling rather than explain. Black immediately understood the reason for the warning: All the furniture in the room, shelves of the library included, were dangerously levitating above him, depending only on the force of Edward's magic.

The following was so fast that the young boy remembered very little of it later. Apparently, all the adults in the house came to lend a hand taking all the furniture down so not to have any books landing on people's heads. After that, the young alchemist had collapsed to the ground, legs trembling, looking ready to have a nervous breakdown. Mrs. Weasley had pressed him against her, telling him that it was an accident and that it was not his fault. The other adults looked on with dismay: we didn't just un-levitate the equivalent of a thoughtless mistake.

Albus Dumbledore arrived precisely at this moment: he noticed all the bustle in the room and listened to Lupin's explanation attentively and with astonishment. Such power in a child of this age, even if he had difficulty controlling it... It was very disturbing. He gently took the boy by the shoulder and led him to the kitchen where he placed a cup of hot tea in his hands and watched him intently. The boy looked lost in space, as if he was in a nightmare; he was still shaking. If this was how he reacted to his first act of voluntary magic, it boded ill for the future.

"Is it always like that when you use magic? This unlimited sensation of power that seems to overwhelm you?" Edward Elric asked with a trembling voice.

"I confess I do not know what you mean, Edward. We usually find the amount of power that we need to carry out a spell by groping for it and many have difficulty at first learning to mobilize enough to carry out a spell. "

"I see," Edward whispered faintly, remembering the sensation he had felt.

He was open to the flow of power to the door, using the one he had in him as a catalyst for the flow. And how he had felt! A colossal energy, similar to the one he felt when opening the transmutation circle of Amestris at the Promised Day. He was completely submerged and had passed it through his wand, levitating everything around him. Luckily, he managed to restrict the power, otherwise the house may have been destroyed, if it even could be levitated.

And now he had just learned that the wizards felt none of that. Could they only feel a tiny fraction of that power when he could feel it in its entirety? In this case, to make a comparison, if they were swimming in the sea, sorcerers felt only the smallest surface currents, while he felt those with the size and power of the Gulf Stream!

He wondered if Nicholas Flamel had the same problem as him and he could still talk to him. Maybe he knew how to control having too much power, which he should never have access to! But then remembered that Nicolas Flamel had passed his alchemy off as magic. His wife was the one to use magic."

"Apart from this accident, Edward, I just learned the sad news that my friend Nicholas Flamel and his wife died. From what I understand, you and I are cited in their will."

"No ... It can't be ..." Ed muttered incredulously.

"The reading of the will is tomorrow, just after Harry's disciplinary hearing. You can accompany me if you want."

"If you want me too…"

The boy went up to his room like a zombie, paying no attention to the scrutiny of members of the Order, or to the curious stares of Harry and his friends. He did not care. He just wanted to lay on his bed and think about nothing: his last link with his world had just been broken, his magic ability turned out to be a nightmare and he missed Al terribly. He hugged his pillow against him, vowing to resume tomorrow.

* * *

Meanwhile, Severus Snape came out of the library, clutching the book Edward had been reading. He had quietly stolen it while the others undid the teen's magic. He began leafing through it absently, wondering what theories the novice sorcerer had absorbed to have reached such raw power of manifestation, especially given he had just cast a spell for the first time (if you do not count his dismal previous attempts). The only people he had seen with such power were Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, two wizards with several decades, even a century, of experience, and yet the boy seemed to approach their level. Only he had no control over his magic, he was unable to regulate it, which meant this simple teenager was a real public danger.

He began to read the first pages before stopping: it was not a language he knew. As a potion master, he spoke and read nearly a dozen, including Hindi, if only enough to read some periodicals of his field. He was going to meet with the Headmaster to translate this book. However, in his heart, he thought that if the boy was clever enough to write his secret notes in a foreign language, then he would have his place in Slytherin. He did not know whether to rejoice or lament: if he were to be place in his house, he would be the most nonconformist Slytherin in the history of the House. At the same time, the boy could fit in anywhere.

He entered the room where Dumbledore stood waiting, probably worried about the upcoming hearing of his favorite pupil, and handed him the book without saying a word. He began to read the small notebook, frowned, turning the pages, and then set the book down to think. The Potions professor asked him, with a little impatience and an ill-concealed curiosity:

"What did he write?"

"No idea," replied the smiling old Headmaster. "It is a language I do not know."

"He invented his own language?" the teacher asked incredulously, knowing that Dumbledore would probably have recognized the language, even if he could not read it.

"It seems so. That adds another mystery to the puzzle known as Edward Elric. A language is not invented in a month. Maybe he knew it before the accident... In any case, reading the contents of this journal could be helpful in understanding this boy," Dumbledore speculated.

"He seemed truly amnesiac when I was observing him: he seemed to discover some things like a wizard discovering the Muggle world; he seemed to see some Muggle objects for the first time."

"Hopefully, this book will give us clues."

Before he had time to finish his sentence, the old wizard felt the book violently escape from his hand and rush at incredible speed toward the ceiling, where it smashed through, regardless of the fact that ceilings were generally harder than notebooks. From the noise it made, the notebook pierced several floors, causing howling from rooms receiving a visit from the UFO. A loud curse reached them from the top floor. The two teachers looked up.

"I think the young Elric has just learned 'accio'," Snape commented in a deadpan tone.

"I feel it would be wise for him to be carefully supervised during his practice sessions..." muttered Dumbledore, examining the hole in the ceiling.

In any case, Snape's predictions had a solid foundation: this kid was going to be a walking disaster.

* * *

Translator Notes:

*The phrase used here literally means angry to death, I kept the idea and the wordplay.

** The magazines Snape names aren't on the all-knowing Harry Potter wiki, so I'm assuming that they are made up for this fic. These names are just translations of what is in the original.

*** The E's belong there; they represent energy in physics equations.

This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/13/17.


	8. Chapter 8

Edward was waiting, book in hand, sitting in the kitchen. Harry had left about an hour ago with Mr. Weasley. Ed had wished him good luck. From what Mrs. Weasley had told him, while serving him a generous helping of eggs and bacon, Dumbledore was soon to arrive to accompany Harry as his counsel to the Ministry of Magic for his defence but also to attend the reading of Nicolas Flamel's last will and testament, which Ed was invited to as well. Edward frowned, still bent over his potion work but failing to concentrate. He was distracted by recent details he had observed: the distance Dumbledore had kept with his friend when previously they were closer, the refusal of the Headmaster to speak to him, and today, the way they were complicating the situation by taking them to the Ministry separately when it would have been so much easier to go together...

Edward Elric was also absorbed by another problem: magic. Last night, when he tried accio to retrieve his notebook, he had tried to put in the least amount of power he could manage, but the problem remained the same: for a short time, he felt overwhelmed by colossal power before he cast a spell a thousand times too powerful. As a result, members of the Order had gathered in his room and had extracted a solemn promise not to do magic without supervision from them. Because of that, it would be difficult to test his theories on the problems with his magic. But now that he thought about it, it was probably better to obey, seeing the damage it could cause.

Finally, Dumbledore arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place. They apparated to the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, according to the Headmaster, they had no time to linger. They took just enough time to register Edward's wand which, to his relief was recorded as an apple wood shell containing Naga scales. Obviously, there had been manipulation by the manufacturer or the ancient artefact was able to thwart identification attempts. It wouldn't surprise him.

They took the golden elevator down all the floors, with various workers getting in and out on the way. Edward noticed Dumbledore kept looking at his watch anxiously, impatient each time the cab stopped at a floor. They had plenty of time, right? According to Harry, his disciplinary hearing was at nine and it was only eight ... unless there has been change at the last minute, which wouldn't be surprising. From what he had eavesdropped through the system of pipes he had made, it seemed that the Fudge administration was corrupt, something which he apparently could not escape wherever he went.

Finally, they reached the bottom floor of the building and passed through a hallway with bare walls, save a sealed door. Edward let his eyes drift a moment towards it before he continued following the headmaster down the steps. The latter told him in a very serious tone to stay there and not to move unless he was called. It was something that Edward was quite willing to do for now. An old lady he immediately recognized as the one who had followed Harry for the last few weeks sat squirming, uncomfortable, wringing her hands and displaying a nervous mien. Edward wasted no time trying to talk to her; he sat on the bench and continued reading his book, indifferent to the stares of the other wizards.

After about ten minutes, Mrs. Figg was called to testify: the poor lady seemed about to faint and the young alchemist hoped, with a detached air, that his testimony could be convincing. Otherwise, Harry would catch major trouble. It turned out that this was not the case when Dumbledore rushed out of the courtroom, looked at him, then asked him to testify to what happened. Edward thought sardonically that if the venerable wizard had had him and Harry meet specifically to discuss this subject, he wouldn't have had to fall back on him at the last moment. He thought that Muggles had at least advanced to the point of having a well functioning judicial system with binding procedures, logic, and usability.

When he entered the courtroom, he thought that the decoration was dreadful which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the magical world really needed to make up the three or four centuries of delay. Wizards seriously complained they were forced into hiding to escape the witch hunts of the Inquisition, yet they exhibited a chair with chains: another example of the irrationality of wizards. Nevertheless, he shut his trap, aware that to point out this could prove embarrassing for Harry and for himself. He carefully studied the stands where the jury stood staring at him with searching eyes. On a platform, giving themselves airs, sat a little man Ed immediately placed in the category of incompetent windbags, a little woman that looked like a frog (though it felt unfair to compare frogs to her), and a woman who seemed to have natural authority and whose eyes reminded him of Olivier Armstrong: tough, but impartial.

Edward faced them, preferring not to sit in the chair made available to him by Dumbledore's standing up. He noticed that the disagreeable woman was watching him with a look of disgust, contemplating his very modest and Muggle clothing. Some jurors began to talk amongst themselves with a smug air. But Edward had survived three years in the military and being treated as a dog and he refused to lower his eyes in front of those who claimed higher judgement.

"Let's hear from the witness: the judge thundered in a stentorian voice, banging his gavel vigorously to bring silence. "Your full name, age, nationality, residency, and school."

"Edward Elric, I'm fourteen, I have British citizenship, I currently reside in Little Whinging, Surrey, at St. Paul's Orphanage, and starting this year I will attend Hogwarts," Edward replied laconically, referring to the story developed by Dumbledore who had unfortunately mistaken him for a boy of fourteen!

"Really? Could you tell me what you are doing in an orphanage, Mr. Elric?" asked the woman in a sour unpleasant voice that Edward hated immediately.

"I lost my parents when I was young, but a Muggle cousin took me into his home and home-schooled me because he knew that I had difficulty fitting in at school. I have studied a little magic on my own, although I admit that Muggle science was much more interesting to me at the time. My cousin was not very comfortable with magic and preferred that I be placed in advanced levels of the Muggle education system. We traveled all the time because of his job with the Royal Navy, but he died two months ago. I was able to return to England but I was left without means. The Muggle social services eventually noticed me and sent me to the orphanage in Little Whinging."

"Really, is this the truth?" Asked the batrachian witch. She seemed to be prodigiously annoying to the judge sitting next to her. "It is obvious to me that he is a mere Muggle trying to impersonate a wizard to get Mr. Potter out of his punishment."

"If you want, I can show you the receipt for my wand that I was given this morning at the desk," Edward said in an indifferent tone, as if he found the objections of the odious little witch completely ridiculous. I am currently undergoing some training in magic, in order to catch up to those in my year at Hogwarts, as I am a bit weak in some areas."

"Well," the judge decreed, without allowing time for the woman to place another objection, "For the testimony itself. Where were you August 2, 1995 at eight o'clock?"

"I was in Little Whinging, accompanied by Harry, helping him bring his cousin to his house since he was not feeling well after a fight," Edward narrated in a very polite and detached tone, carefully forgetting to mention why Dudley was in this state.

"What is your relationship with Mr. Potter," asked the woman. Her whispering really wore on the teen's nerves.

"We met in the neighbourhood a few weeks ago when I was teaching math and we took each other for Muggles, I think. I only knew him by his first name, I did not know of his last name and fame," Edward clarified.

"So you admit that when Mr. Potter cast a Patronus, he thought you were a Muggle and therefore was acting in defiance of the Secret Code," asked the witch, like a dog jumping on a bone.

"Not exactly. When we returned to Privet Drive, fog started to form even though it was hot all afternoon, and it got really cold. I then saw two dark beings with their faces hidden by hoods coming towards us. I then felt any sense of joy disappear and I fainted and found myself in a hospital bed two days later," Edward finished with a cold and precise tone.

"Um ... What is your exact relationship with Dumbledore? What has he paid you to tell you this story to this honourable assembly!" Spat the tiny witch, who had seen that the jurors were seriously considering the teen's testimony.

"I have no connection with Professor Dumbledore aside from his being the headmaster of the institution where I will be studying. I was not paid to tell the truth, I just heard people discussing the incident at Diagon Alley and I thought I would introduce myself to testify to prevent your government from committing a serious miscarriage of justice," said Ed while smiling wryly, seeing the more she lost her composure, the more she tried to discredit him. Finally, learning to ignore all of Mustang's smart-ass remarks came in handy!

Dumbledore, meanwhile, watched Ed's testimony carefully. He did not expect that this would go as well as it had. The boy had done his job perfectly: he had not once turned to Harry or himself for advice, he gave his story without confusing himself, kept a neutral tone, giving an impartial look at the incident that only confirmed what had been said by Harry. He knew how to add small details to his story without adding too much. This boy knew how to lie perfectly, and could even flatter jurors even though the old wizard could see from the tiny little details in his intonation and his face that, in fact, he despised most of these people Umbridge especially... Edward Elric was definitely a very interesting young man.

* * *

A few minutes of deliberation later, Harry was acquitted and Edward felt he had spent a great morning after all. Seeing this woman, the undersecretary of the Minister, ready to have a stroke was a highly gratifying pleasure he wouldn't get tired of any time soon. Unfortunately, he couldn't discuss it with Harry because as soon as he was absolved of the charges against him, Dumbledore left the room, quietly ordering Edward to follow him for their next appointment. They went up a level to get to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and then they travelled several corridors before finding a door marked 'Notarization, Wills, and other Documentation'. Dumbledore knocked before entering a small room. There were already several people seated in a half circle in front of a desk with a nervous man seated behind it. They sat and waited until the man in the bowler hat who had led the assembly during Harry's hearing arrived, almost soaked in sweat. He shot a furious look at Dumbledore and Edward when he noticed their presence, but decided not to make a scene and sat down, ready to listen to the little wizard who tore open a large envelope and began reading the papers inside aloud.

" _I, Nicholas Flamel, being of sound mind, body, and magic, present to you my last wishes._

 _90% of my vast fortune has already been distributed to French and international charities, as well as muggles and wizards for whom I feel an immense respect. This donation has been made in my lifetime, in accordance with the procedures enforced by wizarding law. You will find enclosed the list of such donations._

 _As for the remaining 10%, it is the subject of this present testament and represents the sum of one million Galleons._

 _One hundred thousand galleons will be given to the British Ministry of Magic, under some official pretext that I leave the minister to find, but in reality so they do not impede the testamentary proceedings._

 _Five hundred thousand Galleons will be offered to the British wizarding school Hogwarts to allow the sustainability of scholarships. I also offer the Hogwarts library a collection of old books hoping they allow young minds to continue to learn. (List in appendix 2)_

 _To Albus Dumbledore, I offer for his collections some of my instruments, whose list is located in Appendix 3._

 _To the Potions Association, I offer my laboratory, though without the formula for the stone as that was destroyed centuries ago._

 _To St. Mungo's, I offer the sum of three hundred ninety-nine thousand Galleons, with funds to be allocated specifically to research on incurable diseases. (Non-exhaustive list in Appendix 4)_

 _Finally, to Edward Elric, who was the first and the last to discover the answer to my riddle and my secret, I offer vault number 713 at Gringotts and one thousand Galleons. I would also like to inform him that I have adopted him with the papers that he signed without his knowledge by his name and blood on August 5, and is entirely free to accept or not._

 _This is my last will and must be followed exactly, otherwise the sum will go to my sole heir under the French laws I am bound to as a citizen of that nation._

 _Signed at Gringotts by my own hand, August 6, 1995, Nicholas Flamel_ "

Edward thought that if Flamel wasn't already dead, he would have strangled him with his bare hands for that little joke! He had agreed to attract undesirable attention, but this was going to be unbearable! Anyone would think that the secret revealed concerned the philosopher's stone and would try to get it for themselves, or even destroy it and/or him. And the adoption! He could already see the looks of envy some members of the assembly kept shooting him, particularly the minister, and he had wanted to get out of here as fast as he could. Even Dumbledore seemed surprised by the will's contents, and though the man knew to hide his emotions. What was certain, though, was that now he wouldn't have any anonymity and would have to expect a lot of problems. And the worst part was that he had no idea how to handle this situation.

"Wait a minute, I thought you had no family," Fudge exclaimed, pointing to Edward. "So how did you meet Nicholas Flamel?"

"I met him on a trip to France with my cousin," Edward explained quickly, unwilling to allow any rumours to spread about him. "We met on the terrace of a cafe and talked for hours. He gave me a small logic game which I solved very quickly, that's all. We met again a few days before his death and he learned of the death of my cousin. I did not think that he would adopt me outright."

"And what is this secret that you were told?" Fudge asked again, greed in his eyes. "That does not concern you, that is a private matter," snapped the boy, unimpressed.

"Mr. Elric," the notary asked in a quavering voice. "Do you agree to submit to the identification procedure for the adoption to verify that you are this person? Then we will see if you want to accept this offer."

"I agree, what should I do?" Ed replied, disregarding the minister's hopeful looks.

"Just a drop of blood here, to check," he said. Edward bit his thumb and dropped a few drops of scarlet on the paper, where it shone briefly. "You are indeed Mr. Edward Elric. You are free to take the name of Flamel or to reject it, according to your convenience."

"I can keep my current family name?" the young alchemist asked, unwilling to give up the name of his mother.

"Of course," replied the notary, affably.

"In this case, I'm going for Edward Elric Flamel," the teen sighed, before receiving the key to vault #713 and some papers from the little wizard.

"Noted."

Then, without a moment to spare, the boy left the room, hoping not to have to stay longer. On the way, the teen accidentally hit one of the wizards who was standing by the door with it. Edward looked up and held the cold gray gaze of the tall man with long blond, almost white hair. The man seemed to be judging him with a calculating look that the boy did not like at all, but which confirmed his suspicions: this whole conversation had been spied on.

Dumbledore left as well, pausing upon seeing the spy, but going on his way without remark. Edward followed Dumbledore to the area reserved for apparition and was soon on the porch of the home of the Blacks. He entered the hall, from where he could hear the noise from all the people in the house who were celebrating Harry's acquittal in the kitchen. When the young alchemist turned around, he saw that Dumbledore was gone. With a shrug, he headed for the basement to join the others. He was greeted by Ginny, Fred and George who had gathered around Harry to celebrate by loudly singing 'Harry wasn't expelled!'; the other two members of the trio also seemed very relieved even though they were trying to hide.

A nice little party began to collect, but Edward could see that even though Harry seemed happy to return to Hogwarts, there was a little bitterness in his eyes. Settling beside him, he passed him a butterbeer, an excellent drink he had discovered here, and sat beside him while the others continued to heckle throughout the kitchen despite the disapproval of Mrs. Weasley.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong," Edward said, swallowing the contents of his bottle.

"It's nothing, I guess I'm being too selfish, but I thought maybe, Dumbledore..." Harry muttered, gripping the bottle and knowing what he said didn't make much sense.

"You wish that your mentor has the common courtesy to look at you? I noticed that the last few days. He's avoiding you," Edward stated flatly.

"I know it's because of me that he was fired from all his posts except at Hogwarts. That's probably why he was angry," said the bitter teen, completely depressed.

"Eh, he had too many jobs anyway," Edward joked before taking on a more serious tone, seeing the look on his friend's face. "Seriously, he decided to believe you and proclaim it from the rooftops. In any case, you should also blame him for insisting on speaking at every opportunity about Voldemort, he's also put you under the spotlight and so now you are also believed to be a liar, and mentally ill, as if you could keep this discreet."

"People should know!" Harry protested.

"Sometimes when we know that a secret will not be believed, the best response is to shut up, to conform to what others expect of us, and act illegally," Edward said, speaking from experience.

"We do that, too," the Boy Who Lived pointed out. "Yeah, I know," Edward muttered dully.

"Er, how's your training in magic going?" Harry said to change the subject.

"Unless you have been blind and deaf all day, you know exactly how well that's going. I can tell you everything about the theory, and understand what is actually happening, but in actual practice..." Ed sighed with some fatalism.

"You could focus on other subjects that don't really need wands, like potions or herbology," advised Harry.

"Maybe, but again, I'd have to understand how it works..."

Edward went to work the next day, starting other subjects in the curriculum. The morning was devoted to his research on understanding magic and the development of his theories to explain magic with revisions by Hermione (who, whatever may be said for her teaching talents, knew how to perfectly organize classes in a clear, concise manner and with legible handwriting).

In the afternoon, one of the members of the Order devoted themselves to helping the young alchemist cast spells. The results were very inconclusive. The spells were always imbued with too much magical power, enough to demolish the space devoted to training. Another disadvantage soon presented itself: his slowness. For the alchemist to cast a spell, he needed time to think about the physical or biological phenomenon behind every magical phenomenon before casting the spell, with considerable care to avoid changing the entire room in addition to the targeted object. And so, he progressed very little; the smallest of spells causing him difficulties.

The only matter that had caused him the least problems was Transfiguration. With its many rules, it was the nearest field to alchemy and therefore required less force to access the door. Edward had even started to say that he could excel in this matter ... at least until Professor McGonagall tried to tackle the subject of transforming inanimate matter into living and vice versa. When the boy had witnessed the transfiguration of a mouse into a wallet, he had run to vomit in the toilet. The teacher had had a serious discussion on the subject with her pupil on this, and she understood that he had reached his limit: he could not bear to perform a spell that could kill a living being or create from life nothing to destroy it immediately. He was almost traumatized by this, a lot like some children from Muggle families. She realized she could not force him to change his mind and should let time do its work.

Edward Elric, however, had not only spent his days studying magic. He helped with the cleaning of the house and sorting through decades of Black heirlooms to put into storage. Not that he liked this kind of activity, but it allowed him to connect with his future classmates.

Socializing was not something he was used to: as a child, he had mostly interacted with Alphonse and Winry; he knew a lot of the youth of Resembool but kept his distance in favor of studying. The last three years he mainly worked alongside soldiers who were at least twice his age and had treated him as a superior or a subordinate, with strictly hierarchical relations. Children like Elysia or Nina were rare treasures, but were now tinged with guilt when he thought about what had happened. Ling was his first friend his age (as Alphonse had reminded him repeatedly), capable of understanding him, able to fight and defend himself and others, and therefore able to survive when everything had degenerated and they had all been in danger of dying.

Now that he thought about it, it was perhaps not so surprising that he became friends with Harry. He had survived so many catastrophic situations, being friends with him could hardly bring him more trouble than he had already faced.

From what he could see, the other teens were as hungry for information as he was, and in particular information on the mysterious weapon they had spoken of the first night. More annoyingly, they also sought information about him.

Regarding the weapon, Edward quickly concluded that it did not exist, or at least not in the form they thought it was: he could catch enough discussion with his alchemy to understand that members of the Order ... kept mentioning a prophecy? Something they wished not to see falling into the hands of the enemy, and which appeared to be informative, given the way they spoke.

And regarding the...well, Edward had not intended to reveal more than he did. He was available to ask them any questions he wished or investigate. It was one of his specialties to keep a secret. He could appreciate that he could not risk being too open to them: revealing his secret could harm them in unimaginable ways and he refused to let innocent people be involved in his mission.

But meanwhile, he could still be friendly, if only to help them survive the cleaning of the damn house.

And so, the days passed until the end of the summer arrived, and with it the return to Hogwarts.

* * *

This chapter was beta'd by Shinigami Merchant 08/15/17.


	9. Chapter 9

"WHAT?!" yelled a voice that all occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place had learned to recognize within a few days.

"I think we just heard the sweet voice of Edward," commented Fred, smiling widely.

"Amazing how someone so small can have such a lung capacity," George continued, knowing fully what was coming.

"I AM NOT SMALL, YOU BUNCH OF ASSHOLES, THE WORLD IS JUST BIG!"

"And such hearing!" Cheered the twins, always delighted to know that they came that much closer to pushing the shorter teen over the edge.

"...I wonder how a boy can be so serious and mature one minute and react like a little kid the next," Hermione sighed, closing her book and watching Harry and Ron, who still had not begun to pack their bags.

"Who knows," Ron said, walking into the room and handing each a parchment envelope. "Here's your Hogwarts letter! They should have arrived long ago, I wonder what was going on…"

"I know what Edward's problem is." Ginny entered the room with an extension cord running from her ear to an ear in her hand, "He won't be in the fourth year, but the first year at Hogwarts!"

"Well, it's pretty logical ... Edward has absolutely no idea how to control his magic," Hermione said while unsealing the envelope with jerky movements, emphasizing the 'absolutely '. "Moreover, even if he took a course on the theoretical aspects of magic, he lacks knowledge and skill in subjects like potions, botany, defence against the dark arts ... And if he cannot control it, one day it will cause a disaster."

"I know," Harry sighed starting to read his book list, "But it must be hard for him, right? Being fourteen or fifteen and having to take classes with eleven-year olds who understand nothing ... He also has a lot of pride…"

"Yes, but from what I understand, he can pass some exams as soon as he is sufficiently skilled. That way, he can get into advanced classes faster," Ginny clarified "At the same time, I think it is rather risky to place him in the first-year class: he may scare them and if he loses control like the last time ..." Ron added wisely while pulling a small object from his envelope and examined it curiously.

"Ron! You're a prefect, too!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing to her own badge.

"O misery, O rage, O doom, why doth Fate curse us?" Fred declaimed in a tragic voice and collapsing on the shoulder of his brother.

"I know, O my brother, but alas, another member of our glorious family has been corrupted by the spectre of the authority and the law!"

Then ensued all a speech resembling nothing so much as a funeral ode, which was interrupted by Molly Weasley, who discovered to her delight that her youngest son was perhaps not totally lost from the escapades of his elders.

* * *

Meanwhile, Edward stayed in his room venting his rage to Aletheia, his owl, in his original language, almost certain that she alone understood it. It had been two months since he had arrived, and he not seen his brother and all the others since. It was beginning to weigh on his nerves, especially as his mission did not seem to move an inch and thus made him really want to hit _something!_ And besides, he had just learned that he would be in a beginner's class.

Knowing that he could not express his resentment here, he decided to do something he hated: sit, quietly in his room and try to meditate.

Lying on his bed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling, he tried to regain the feeling he had every time he used magic: that of this huge flow of power whose strength prevented him from casting spells properly. Since he was not using his wand and he did his best to keep his mind blank, it limited the damage...

He closed his eyes, clasped his hands and began to sense the feeling he had when he did alchemy: the multitudes of data needed to form the alchemical equations that allowed him to transmute without a circle. Something he felt for his human transmutation, with which he was familiar and which was reassuring. Then he forced himself to feel the greatest flow, that of the Gate of the universe, opening the cycle of life of this world. As usual, he had the impression that his mind had been caught by a current that threatened to sweep him away, which was too big for him to enter, but in which he survived after all, in which he could grab a few bits of knowledge every time that allowed him to better understand. Every time he did this, he felt like he was risking losing his individuality every time he merged with the current and at the same time, it was exhilarating, fascinating, he felt almost a desire to merge with this stream, to become one with it all. Let everything go, body, mind and soul. No longer exist.

But each time he managed to get out of this current, like a drowning man from the sea, regaining contact with the real world, with every limb trembling, breathing deeply to resume contact with reality.

He heard a knock at his door and muttered a "Come in!". Harry entered, and Ed saw that he seemed torn between anger and resentment. The Boy Who Lived handed him a letter, telling him that it was his Hogwarts letter he had forgotten at the bottom of the stack, and that Mrs. Weasley was getting ready for the party. The young wizard clearly had suffered a disappointment and he wanted to talk without daring to admit it, leading Edward to ask him:

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing, it's just …" Harry began, before pausing, then continuing his thought. "I mean, until now I had never thought about this stupid badge, I'm not even sure I want it."

"The badge ... is it a kind of title?" Edward asked, slightly puzzled.

"Yes, for the position of prefect. In the end, it's Ron who got it and I feel like I'm going to die of jealousy." Harry muttered, a little ashamed of his envy of his best friend.

"Let me guess, it's Dumbledore who appoints prefects?" Edward, who understood the Boy-Who-Lived emotional state a bit better, questioned.

"Yes, but how he ..." Harry began.

"Easy. I can reassure you at least on one point. You are not really jealous of Ron," said the young alchemist in a confident tone.

"What? " exclaimed the wizard, incredulous but with some hope in his voice.

"No. I would say that you are angry with Dumbledore, you see it rather as a lack of confidence on his part because you have a special relationship with him, right? "

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"I observe. You do not really envy Ron; a little, perhaps, but not real jealousy. Jealousy devours the soul, you would never have told me if it was that. On the contrary, you needed to talk about your disappointment, because you feel left out, ignored and suddenly you want that for everyone.

"So… this is normal?" asked the young wizard hesitantly.

"To feel like that is normal," said Edward in an extremely cautious tone, "But that does not mean it's good. If it continues, you might be angry with the whole world and lose your friends. "

"What do you think I should do?" Harry then asked.

"I can think of two solutions: first, you can directly confront your problem, and talk to Dumbledore. My second solution is that you eliminate the problem."

"Are you crazy?!" exclaimed the young wizard, drawing back abruptly.

"I didn't mean it like that! You can decide that what Dumbledore does is not your problem, you're already busy worrying over what he thinks and what they want, rather than on what you want."

"Those are your only ideas?" Harry sighed trying not to growl. "Which would you choose, then?"

"I'd charge in!" Edward replied with a huge, but a little scary, smile.

Harry sighed and could not help smiling: he should have known the answer Edward would choose, knowing his personality. He went to say something when Molly Weasley knocked on the door and told them that dinner was served. The two boys went down to the kitchen, in a better mood than a few hours ago. The mood was festive, with huge banners celebrating Ron and Hermione, the new prefects. The table was full of good little steaming dishes that Ed enjoyed heartily: apart from Mrs. Weasley's tendency to want to give him milk at every meal, the food here was delicious. He filled his plate, moved to one end of the table, having been careful to avoid Moody who was still staring at him suspiciously, and began to eat.

For a month, he had grown accustomed to listening to the conversations around him while pretending to be concentrating on food or passionate about a book: in the latter case, all seemed to think that when he read, he was inaccessible to the outside world, which was the case when he devoured an important book, but nobody had considered that he could very well pretend...so, he overheard a lot of very interesting discussions, although adults were cautious when young wizards were in the vicinity.

But that night, he did not hear a lot of important things, he was tired and he still had his trunk to prepare. With a deep sigh, he started upstairs. When he passed the living room, he heard a sound like a creaking door. Mistrustful, ready to use his fists, he entered the room and approached the cabinet where the sound came from: an old wardrobe. He shook the piece of furniture, kicking the door; it creaked slowly open, letting out ...

In the hall, Mrs. Weasley took her courage in both hands to handle the boggart that was lying in the living room armoire for almost two months, painfully trying to remember her funniest memories that, strangely enough, often involved Fred and George. When she began to climb the stairs, she heard a thud, like a fall. Having a bad feeling and pushed by maternal instinct, she climbed the stairs four at a time hurriedly, entered the room, and found herself facing a nightmare vision. Edward was lying on the floor in the foetal position, as if trying to protect himself and, before him, an indescribable thing, like a human body mutilated, twisted beyond what was imaginable, with a gaping chest, organs in the open air, bathed in scarlet blood, and somehow still breathing and moving. A true vision of hell.

Molly screamed upon seeing this and she stepped back before trying to pull Edward out of the sphere of influence of the monster, but this one seemed to find it too advantageous to stay near the young boy. Then she heard footsteps and was soon surrounded by Harry, Remus and Moody who could scarcely contemplate the horror that lay before them. The werewolf had the good reflex to push Molly and Harry away, while Moody grabbed Edward Elric by the scruff of the neck to pull him out of reach of the creature, and Lupin stood in front to shield the boy, forcing the Boggart to turn into a full moon that the former Defence teacher easily defeated.

Remus leaned over the feverish boy who was shaking and took him in his arms and laid him on one of the room sofas. Alastor grumbled profanities, watching the boy as one would look at a snake, meanwhile, Molly whispered words of comfort gently while Harry looked at his friend with horrified eyes: How was Ed able to live with such a fear?

Finally, Edward woke up but refused to answer questions, merely shook his head, saying he did not remember and did not want to remember, and then he sank into silence, staring into the void. The adults finally decided to leave him alone, though Moody did so with a grinding of teeth. Molly decided to go to the trunk of the boy, knowing he would not have the strength in his state, Remus decided to stay with the boy and Harry walked down the steps to go tell others what happened.

* * *

The next morning, Edward was back to normal, although he remained silent about what had happened. Sitting on his trunk in the hall, he watched everyone run around, completely indifferent to their agitation. He moved only once: in order to catch Ginny who had been thrown down the stairs by the trunks of her brothers, which triggered both the warm thanks of the mother of the girl and a legendary scolding for the twins. Finally, everyone was ready to go and they took to the direction of the station on foot, escorted by members of the Order, including Sirius, who pranced all over the place indifferent to the admonitions of others. Once at King's Cross, they passed through the barrier separating the Muggle world from track 9¾, to the surprise of Edward, and soon found themselves on a platform full of people: children and parents, pupils climbing in an old red train with gold trim and parents embracing their children, telling them goodbye. The small band was quick to settle into an almost empty compartment, occupied only by a blonde girl with an eccentric air who was already deep in her magazine. Edward hurried to take the spot near the window and settled back, ready to fall asleep.

Edward slept for most of the trip, his sleep interrupted only when the students broke into their compartment or when a plant splashed everyone with a smelly liquid. He had struck out at the unfortunate boy who had made the mistake of bringing such a plant on a train, but before he had time to yell at him, an Asian young lady, pretty enough, entered the compartment and pretended not to be paying much attention to Harry who seemed suddenly to be regretting their company ... Ed took just enough time to notice that the two new prefects were not present in the compartment before falling asleep again.

The second visit was much less pleasant: it was a boy with blond hair, grey eyes, with an arrogant and very unpleasant look on his face. He looked too much like the man he had hit with the door at the ministry for it to be a coincidence. Besides, the fact that Harry called him Malfoy confirmed his suspicions. He seemed to know a lot of things, too, it seemed, judging by the look on Harry's face. He made several allusions to supposed treacherous allies, but what Edward hated above all, it was his expression when he looked eager. But since at that moment, he pretended to be asleep, eyes half closed, he could hardly give him a deserved punch in the face. As far as he could tell, only the odd girl whose name was Lovegood, Luna Lovegood, seemed to understand that he was awake.

Finally, the train arrived at Hogsmeade, and there Ed was separated from the others. Luna gave him a small wave, while telling him to beware of the Wrackspurts that swarmed near the lake. He had just enough time to see the others boarding stagecoaches pulled by horses with a strange reptilian appearance that reminded him a little of chimeras ...

The boy therefore found himself amid a bunch of eleven-year olds, and he felt the anger pour back into him. All these kids looking at him with funny expressions, round eyes, whispering and pointing their fingers without bothering to look discreet. He glared at all of them, who quickly retreated without stopping staring at him.

A strong woman, energetic and authoritative, called them and led them to a pier where they went by four to a boat, Edward managing to climb into that of the teacher. Despite it being uncomfortable, he thought, however, that it was worth it when he saw the sight before him: A huge castle with numerous towers, which clearly drew the moonlight and whose image was reflected in the lake's dark waters. He had to admit that it was really beautiful. Even without having to think, he could feel a powerful current that seemed to fuel this magical fortress which, itself, helped to feed this flow: a beautiful equivalent exchange entered...

Finally, they came to the castle where Edward went with the other first years, throwing glance at everything around him. This place was truly magnificent and monumental, a place of great power.

* * *

The future students waited more or less anxiously for Professor McGonagall to come to lead them into the Great Hall, exchanging all sorts of rumors about Sorting. Edward had read books, including _Hogwarts: A History_ , describing the houses in an extremely precise manner, and the qualities needed to join. He found this education system rather dangerous because students would only develop the character traits they already had, which could push them to extremes. It would have been much better if the children were divided into houses that could teach a different mentality than they already had, they would learn other ways of thinking and could acquire a broader openness.

Finally, the wide doors opened and they entered the Great Hall, staring at the magnificent ceiling with banners in the colors of the four school houses. You could see four long tables at which sat hundreds of students waiting for the ceremony to begin, chatting. On a platform, the staff table dominated the room, but he could not see the faces of the teachers. At one of the tables located at the end of the room, Edward could see Harry and the others making encouraging hand signs at him. He smiled rather weakly.

Professor McGonagall brought out a stool, upon which a wizard's hat, obviously very old, was placed. The artefact seemed to be treated with the utmost respect, for all students fell silent at the sight and the ceremony was visibly started. However, Edward absolutely didn't expect that the bundle of patched fabric would start to sing, recalling the history of Hogwarts, the qualities of the houses and the need to unite during times of crisis. Just after the end of the song, the old witch unrolled a long parchment and began to call first years up. Apparently, it was enough to wear the hat, and after a period of time, the Sorting Hat chose the house of the student and loudly proclaimed it, triggering applause from the one of the tables.

Edward did not have to wait long for his turn. The Transfiguration teacher soon called "Elric-Flamel, Edward", which made the boy inwardly shudder, not at all accustomed to the use of this additional name and reluctant to shout it from the rooftops. But the damage was already done and while advancing towards the stool, he could hear the mutters that began to run along the tables. However, he did not let any trace of emotion show on his face and sat on the seat while the old teacher placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Unlike the others, it did not cover his entire head. He closed his eyes and heard a small voice:

"What do I have here? A traveler a long way from home?"

"What do you mean by that?" Edward thought, hoping that the magical object had not guessed where he came from.

"Exactly what I just said, Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, native of Amestris."

"How do you know all that, what you said?" The young alchemist asked in his head, avoiding showing his panic.

"Do not worry, young Elric. I can read the truth in the hearts and heads of men, it is linked in some way to the Portal, and the magic that drives me forbids me from revealing what happens in the minds of children, even to the Headmaster. Your secret is safe with me," said the ancient headgear reassuringly.

"It is you who sort?" Edward wanted to make sure.

"Indeed. I must admit that your thoughts on Sorting are interesting and very intelligent. Putting students not where they belong, but where they can grow. I regret that the founders did not have that idea, not even dear Rowena…" reminisced the Hat.

"Well, since it can't be changed, can you sort me? It's not that I'm bored, but ..." asked the former alchemist in a tone that was not a little sassy.

"But you're not an easy case, Edward rich history made you mature a lot. We can say that you have in you the qualities that we would like to see in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin ... while alive, they would have done anything for you ..." the little voice pointed out.

"You possess bravery in all its qualities: in instinct, barrelling in without taking time to think to save those you love, but also a more thoughtful courage, more mature. Few would have dared to confront a being as dangerous as that of your world and few would have agreed to leave everything to prevent another universe suffering the same fate. For such acts, Gryffindor would have you knighted."

"Uh…"

"But that's not all, for you also possess the qualities of Slytherin, in great number. You have the will to prove yourself and you have shown yourself capable of accomplishing the impossible. You're clever, crafty, you know how bend the rules and you do not hesitate to violate them to accomplish your goal. You have ambition and you could accomplish much with your determination. All qualities that can quickly become defect- this is very true for those of Slytherin- but you're not ready to throw your principles into the fire to reach your goals and you stay true to yourself and those who are attached to you. Slytherin might not have understood your moral code, but he would have respected you, if only for your qualities."

"Nice …"

"Although Ravenclaw is too often considered a minor house, its founder would have fought hard to have you. Your intelligence, your genius, your thirst for knowledge and your desire to understand your surroundings would make you a true Ravenclaw. But it is not so much intelligence that would allow you to find your place there, you have to have sacrificed knowledge to ultimately gain the wisdom of that house."

"..."

"And Hufflepuff would have accepted you in kindness, ready to give you your place. You don't rely solely on your ability but rather the fruits of your efforts and your hard work. But above all, it is your loyalty that would have attracted her. I think I have never seen more beautiful loyalty in a thousand years than what you have for your brother. You embody the responsibility and duty of Hufflepuff."

"I'm not perfect." Edward finally said, totally not blushing.

"No, you're not: anger, pride, impatience, stubbornness, intransigence ... But I'm not here to tell you that, but to sort you. Do you have a preference? Join your friends in Gryffindor, perhaps? Or would you rather be away from them so as not to endanger them? Do you want to go in Slytherin to spy on those who might hurt them or otherwise put you out of reach? Would you enjoy spending your stay here building eternal friendships in the most unnoticeable way? Or are you still trying to gain more knowledge and wisdom as you have always done?

"I don't know. Place me where everybody else expects me to be," Edward decided.

"I'm going to put you where I feel you would be most comfortable: RAVENCLAW!"

Realizing that his Sorting was finally over, Edward stood up, handed the hat to Professor McGonagall and headed for the table applauding loudest, noting the whispers about how long it took as he walked, as well as exchange of Galleons at the staff table. Noticing the girl from his compartment, Luna, sat a little apart from the rest of the house, he sat next to her, knowing that this way she at least wouldn't be alone. The girl looked at him with her large grey eyes and told him that wrackspurts weren't at all parties, but here today. Edward had no idea what she was talking about, but knowing he did not know all about the magical world, decided to just nod.

Soon after, the Sorting was completed and Dumbledore announced the beginning of the feast. Multitudes of various dishes appeared on the table and the young alchemist decided to disregard the wrackspurts in favor of paying attention to his plate. He served himself generously from all the dishes, throwing from time to time a glance at his surroundings: the Gryffindor group seemed busy eating at a similar rate to himself, at the head table, he could see some members of the Order and other teachers whom he did not know yet. He shuddered when he recognized one in particular: the woman from the Ministry. She seemed to be staring at Harry, scrutinizing him in a way she apparently thought was discreet, all with an annoying smile. It was not a good sign.

This was reinforced when, in the middle of Dumbledore's speech, Professor Umbridge interrupted him and began to talk about how the Ministry for Magic conceived education at Hogwarts. Edward was quick to realize that her vision was an insult both to the intellect and reason, both students and teachers, the ministerial authority's intention was to interfere in school affairs, and that she was one of the best examples he has ever seen in terms of corrupt and sneaky politicians- even out of the tons in the army!

No one in the room seemed to have understood except for teachers who had all raised their eyebrows during the speech, and Hermione Granger who seemed about to explain it to the group. This meant that students would be powerless against the seductive and insidious manipulations of this woman. It was rather frightening ...

He came back to earth when he saw that his house was beginning to rise, led by the Ravenclaw prefects to head to its Common room. He therefore followed suit, like other first years, seeing Ron and Hermione do the same for Gryffindor in the opposite direction. After going through several corridors adorned with paintings and armor of all kinds, they finally came to a door with a knocker in the shape of eagle that asked,

This thing all things devours:  
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;  
Gnaws iron, bites steel;  
Grinds hard stones to meal;  
Slays king, ruins town  
And beats high mountain down*

The Prefects explained that to access the room, you had to answer the riddle. They asked if any of the early years could respond. Seeing that none of them knew the solution to the puzzle, Edward sighed deeply and devoted himself by answering wearily: "time", causing the door to open. Regardless of looks from the others, he quickly entered the room, which was furnished with comfortable chairs, tables for working and libraries in all the corners, the walls were covered in blue silk and bronze, making this place a paradise for all the strenuous work ... The young alchemist looked at the beautiful marble statue of the founder like a queen with a diadem on her head while absently listening to the prefects explain the ways of the House. Then, wanting to avoid any questions, he walked as quickly as possible to his dorm to go to bed.

* * *

Original Author's note:

Some had wondered if Ed would be placed in the first or fifth year. I decided for the first because in my opinion, for the teaching team, there would be no question of placing a person devoid of any control in a fifth year class where they learn the rather delicate spells. Imagine if he cast a disappearing spell that made everyone disappear?

Ed's opinion on sorting, i.e. that we should divide people by pushing them to develop other qualities than what they already have is an opinion that I share entirely. To me, pushing children to develop qualities and defects they already have doesn't help them because it locks them into clichés and stereotypes which they will find hard to discard in the future. This makes them a bit narrow-minded and certainly not pushing for tolerance. (Did I say that I found the Sorting and houses completely stupid?)

Regarding the Sorting, it will probably seem a bit cliché, but Edward indeed has the qualities required by the four founders. But beware, this is not because Edward has been to the door or that kind of thing. Edward is a young man who has great maturity and a lot of experience, his life has led him to develop very many qualities (and defects too) which gave him a complex personality.

But the Sorting Hat distributes children of eleven, whose personalities are not as pronounced and where the qualities are still uncertain and not yet revealed. The hat made his choice based on a character that is under construction and whose personality is still very sensitive to the influences of others. I think this is disastrous.

Take, for example the comments of the Headmaster to Snape when he said that he believed he was sorted too early. And he's right. If Snape had been distributed later, Dumbledore seems convinced that he would be sorted into Gryffindor. This means that it takes a young person has all grown to know his personality and sometimes well hidden qualities.

* * *

Translation notes: *Yeah, this is Gollum's riddle, even in the original.


	10. Chapter 10

As usual since his arrival in this world, Edward woke before dawn, around 5 am. He took a few moments to recognize where he was before getting up and rushing to shower without waking the other children who were still sleeping peacefully. He quickly went down to the common room and saw with satisfaction that no one else was up yet. Ed left the tower and walked towards the Great Hall, trying not to rely on the ever-changing paintings but the windows overlooking a mountain landscape. Finally, he arrived in the foyer without meeting anyone. Ed went outside the castle, to the glade he had caught a glimpse of the day before in his boat crossing. Once on the lake shore, he began a series of warm-ups, then began to run a lap of the lake at a steady pace.

He had missed jogging during his stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. He had repeatedly requested permission to run a bit in the small park in front of the house, even with an adult chaperone or Sirius in his dog form present ... but he always was denied and with little pleasure had to therefore be confined to small gymnastic exercises in his room.

Aside from flying on broomsticks, wizards seemed to have no understanding of the idea of sports or physical training. They were too used to using magic, preferring to use it for everything and anything, risking falling into laziness. They did not see any link between the training of the mind and the body, which was unfortunate for them.

But at least here, he could run at will, surrounded by a beautiful green landscape, and he did not intend to miss out. As the sun rose, he saw the mountains gain a pinkish glow, and he could hear the birds singing. The sound of wings made him raise his head and Aletheia landed on his arm, saluting him with a hoot, before returning to the aviary of the castle. This bird was a real comfort; it seemed very intelligent and could understand many of his instructions. Edward's run soon took him near the Forbidden Forest. Edward vowed to visit it at one time or another ... after all, what was forbidden was often the most tempting, right? And the woods were increasingly attractive to him.

He finally reached the end of his morning jog, a little breathless, but happy with his time. He turned and began making his way back to the castle, ready for breakfast. He was one of the first to arrive, although small groups of students from all the houses were arriving one after the other. Edward gave a slight nod upon seeing the trio of Harry, Ron and Hermione arrive. They waved him over happily. A swarm of owls arrived bringing the mail to the astonishment of Edward and the prefects distributed the schedules. The young alchemist felt depressed at the thought of having to attend classes with a bunch of kids, knowing that he understood magical theory better than any student here.

He began in Transfiguration with a class of first-year Gryffindor's. He gave a discreet prayer so that there would be no biological conversion before setting off to class, knowing that it was better to leave early in case one got lost in this place. After taking three hallways and getting yelled at by Filch when he asked for directions, Edward arrived in plenty of time to sit in the front of the class and debate proposing that every student get a map to Dumbledore.

A cat sat watching the assembling students on the desk in the front of the room; the boy wondered briefly if it was the professor's when it leapt from the desk and transformed into McGonagall mid-air, stunning the chattering first years. Edward immediately sought to know how the teacher had been able to do such a thing, comparing various theories of physics, biology and magic that would explain it. He thus missed most of the theoretical explanation of Transfiguration before McGonagall interrupted his thoughts by asking him to transform his match into a needle, with a stern warning to be careful. After attempting to restrict his magic to the bare minimum, he cast the spell and grimaced feeling immediately after the excessive force disperse in the classroom. Joyous exclamations rose up from the class when students found they had a needle without making any effort.

"Mr. Elric." sighed the Professor trying not to hide her face with her hand before turning all the needles back into matches.

Edward gave an apologetic smile before growling mentally on his inability to regulate his strength. He entrenched himself behind a book, indifferent to the gaze of other students staring at him again. The transformation of the match was not very difficult: in reality, there was a conversion of the elements on the end of the match, with antimony sulphide, manganese and potassium chlorate dioxide becoming additives in the metal and the wood of the stick becoming carbon…but the students did not seem at all to notice or care: for them, a match could turn into needle because the two objects had the same shape and the same size, with no questioning of this pseudo-principle. Edward wanted to hang himself, or at least to bang his head against the wood of the table.

* * *

The young alchemist left the classroom to go to History of Magic. Ron and Harry had described the ghost who had never changed his daily lecture except for the times when Hermione asked him information about the Chamber of Secrets. Yet the ghost seemed to pause often, looking at him as if he felt interference. Edward, however, did nothing other than writing his theories on how McGonagall had indeed been transformed into a cat. Nevertheless, the ghost's problem proved almost as interesting as the one on which he was working, as he put aside his work and began to consider what might disturb the spirit. If he were to make a guess, it would be that passing through the Gate or in its proximity frightened the dead. He would have to test this with a more talkative and helpful ghost than this one though...

After lunch, he walked reluctantly to the Charms classroom. He arrived a quarter of an hour before the start of the course. Professor Flitwick was already there and welcomed his pupil warmly: apparently the Transfiguration professor had made him aware of the difficulties of the student and he wanted to talk to him to find out what it was. Edward knew he could not talk about certain things, however, it remained undeniable that he needed to know how to solve this problem. He contented himself with saying that every time he tried casting a spell, he felt overwhelmed by power, which was why his spells went haywire.

Professor Flitwick looked at him gravely and asked: "Mr. Elric, Minerva told me that you had amnesia, however, I would still like to ask you: do you really not remember about your parents... a peculiarity in their physical forms, a sign indicating that they were not fully human?"

"I have no recollection of them, Professor," replied Edward.

"I see ... It's a shame because this could explain some of your difficulties. You see, Mr. Elric, creatures and beings of the wizarding world are largely related to the magical energy that runs through this world, one could even say that some depend totally upon it and therefore are much more open to magic than sorcerers who are mere humans. Some beings can have children with humans and even have offspring that the ministry will qualify as a half-breed. Generally, hybrids*, as I prefer to call them, inherit knowledge of how to use magic with the human side and use it as wizards do."

"Like you, sir?" asked the young alchemist carefully.

"Yes, as does Hagrid," replied the tiny wizard. "However, in very rare cases, children inherit their magic from the non-human side… that's when it becomes a problem. They do not know their own strength and cannot cast spells, which is why they are never sent to Hogwarts."

"What?" Edward exclaimed a little shocked.

"It's too dangerous," Flitwick said with a serious look before explaining. "They are usually highly ranked in the communities of beings from which they come, where they are taught to use magic in their own way. I probably would have advised Albus to do so in your case, even if he probably would not have listened to me. He believes in the principle of equality and thinks everyone, regardless of their origin, should receive the same education. A very noble principle, but sometimes what is best for one is not best for another."

"Clearly, you do not think I belong here," said the boy in a neutral voice.

"I have not seen what you are capable of, Mr. Elric," tried to appease the teacher. "But anyway, the question does not even matter: you do not know where you come from and right now the magical communities are very cold with wizards. Your best opportunity is here."

The discussion ended when other students entered the class in a deafening hubbub and the course began in joy and good humor. The little Professor was a decidedly good teacher, one who knew how to communicate with children and excelled in his field. The first, theoretical part was not interesting at all to the young alchemist who already knew it by heart. He contented himself to read a book and think carefully about the teacher's words. He was certain that he was a human being, however, he seemed to possess the common characteristic of other magical creatures in having a close relationship with the magical energy of this world. This gift he had been given by the Truth- or was it because of his capacity for alchemy that he was able to feel the Great Link? Maybe both ... Truth gave him the ability to use magic, but his use of alchemy, besides the experience at the Promised Day, had to make matters worse by making him more responsive to the huge current that ran through this universe"

Then came the practical section on Lumos, an extremely simple light spell. The professor looked at him attentively while he concentrated carefully to make sure that he used as little energy as possible but to no avail: his wand produced a bright light similar to flares Lan Fan used, surprising the students. Flitwick looked at him with great concern.

At the end of the class, Flitwick had Ed stay behind to discuss it with him and try a little experiment. He took a second wand out of his desk drawer and asked him to try the spell again, saying it could be a problem of a too powerful wand. Ed, remembering the strange story of his instrument, thought it could well be that but did not want to tempt fate. He asked the teacher to protect his eyes, which he did by casting a protective spell and summoning a pair of glasses. Then, Edward cast it. For a moment, the young alchemist thought he was back at the door as the white light was dazzling: no shadow, the colors faded even against the force of the spell. He stopped immediately. Flitwick rubbed his eyes and said:

"Your wand actually regulates your magic and there is little chance that others will work ... I have every reason to think you are trying to cast spells with the minimum force, given your concentration. I do not know what to do. I'm a former dueling champion and I can only recommend one thing: avoid fighting against those you love, you may seriously hurt by accident It'll seem very hard, but if it was up to me, I would ask you to go continue your magic training with goblins or other beings. It is not against you, you're a bright boy, but extremely dangerous in a classroom."

"I see," Edward sighed as he left the class.

He did not feel hurt, after all, it was not the teacher's fault that he was a special case. He walked to Greenhouse No. 1 for the Herbology course that had already begun. He knocked on the door and entered the classroom, gave a quick apology to the amiable professor then joined a table with a strange plant and two Slytherins. The teacher began by explaining that many plants known by Muggles had magical properties. She drew up a list of their properties for much of the course. Then Professor Sprout went to the practical portion of the course by presenting a Flitterbloom, a plant with small tentacles that was harmless, unlike its cousin Devil's Snare, however, its shaking branches sometimes made it difficult to treat. This was the first class where Edward really felt at ease: he had often helped his mother in the kitchen garden and the Herbology teacher reminded him of good memories, besides the plant seemed to... enjoy… him for lack of a better term. Edward did not know why, the teacher had just said the plant might have a sensitivity...

His day's courses ended, he rushed to the library to escape the crowd and moved to a table where he worked on his theories until dinner, where he ate quickly before working at a table away from the common room.

He did not really want to bond with others: those of his year were immature and those of his age treated him smugly because of his delay or with amazement because of his name. It was hard to talk to students from another house in the castle, except outside on the grounds and in the hallways or in the rigor of some clubs, but otherwise, nothing was done to facilitate friendship between the Houses, especially with the separate pass coded common rooms and reserved tables. And then they wanted the houses to act united ...

* * *

The week passed in much the same manner: Every morning he rose for one or two hours of exercise and then had breakfast and attended classes.

He had waited for Potions curiously because the group of Gryffindor's had spewed insults of all kinds about Snape. Edward knew that he was not the type to talk delicately. However, he had to reserve the height of his aggressiveness for Gryffindor's because he merely made sarcastic remarks against Ravenclaw's and gave simple looks to scare Hufflepuff's. Understanding his material proved extremely difficult for Edward. Of course, he could very well be content to follow the instructions exactly and perfectly succeed with his potion without trying to understand the theory, but it offended his way of seeing things. He would think for a long time on the property of an ingredient, wondering why it was necessary in this preparation, and leave it out. Generally, at that time, his partner would pull him out of the way of his exploding potion.

By the end of his first day, Snape, who had prevented his potion from exploding at least twice during the session, had taken him aside and ordered him to keep the potions theory to his writing and to do as all the other idiots and mindlessly follow the instructions in class; otherwise he would be put in detention until he understood that. Harry and Ron were outraged when Edward had told them about this, but admitted that the teacher was right. These materials were as dangerous as those in a chemistry class where one would handle nitro-glycerine and sulfuric acid, so he had to agree to follow the instructions.

The astronomy course was beautiful to Edward. He never tired of studying the sky, to see how they were both different and similar to the constellations of his universe, as if seeing it from another point of view. In addition, it was quiet, without magic, the ideal class for him.

In his flying class, Ed's broom tended to stay in the place where he knew it belonged, namely on the ground, and with him there too. Madame Hooch could not convince him to fly more than one meter above the ground and there was a safe bet that she would never change his mind as he was stubborn on the issue.

Defence against the Dark Arts proved to be a disaster. Umbridge did not like him and it was mutual: apparently, she considered him an undesirable element that had to be controlled at all costs. She was particularly good when it came to delivering veiled insults but the young alchemist had experienced enough not to snap in class. She was a specialist in snide remarks and constantly condescended to the class: her only purpose seemed to be ensuring that at the end of their schooling the young wizards would be content to leave things to the good hands of the Ministry without knowledge of their responsibilities within the community. Edward had managed to last an hour and a half before cracking and telling her all the good he thought of her and 'her books that I wouldn't give to a bunch of kindergarteners'. He was out of the class with a week of detention, which he realized was also the case for Harry.

That evening, he was therefore made to go to Umbridge's office with his friend. On entering the room, he had vowed that if one day he and Winry had a daughter he never inflict such a setting on her for fear of seeing the eye-gouging girly decor everywhere. Pink everywhere, porcelain trinkets and kitsch on each side table or small chest of drawers, with the pattern of kittens that could make even Alphonse lose his passion for cats.

When the woman held out with a sweet smile an unhealthy looking sharp black pen and indicated that they would have to copy lines, Edward immediately suspected foul play, but began the task. The acute pain he felt in his hand informed him of the little perverse game that she was engaged in. Edward had no intention of letting her win and said that even if he had to have something engraved on his hand it may as well be something in which he believed: so he changed his phrase "I must not tell lies' to "I will tell the truth.' By the time she noticed it was well and truly engraved in his hand. She couldn't complain because he could show this evidence to Flitwick.

* * *

By the end of the week, he had had the great pleasure of seeing the puffy face of the vile woman blanch when she saw what was written on his hand. He said as innocently as he could that he had misheard, but that if she wanted, she could always come with him to see Professor Flitwick or better, Professor Dumbledore, to discuss his punishment. Umbridge's face was twisted with rage and Harry, who was standing next to him, had struggled not to laugh in front of her; the two young wizards proceeded to do so in private once they were out of the office. He was invited to the grounds where Hermione and Ron were waiting with the essence of murtlap that soothed the pain.

Hermione shook her head upon seeing it and tried to convince them to tell Dumbledore anyway. But Edward had no illusions on that, if Umbridge was sacked, another would arrive, even worse, while there, he could blackmail her for a while before she felt confident again.

Harry thought that Ed definitely had a Slytherin side before he left for his duties that had been delayed. But with the heat of late summer, he unfortunately felt more inclined to laze than work. The grass was so soft... he fell asleep within a few moments ... and woke up as the other.

He was in a room lit by a few candles with a circle of people dressed as Death Eaters who were devoutly bowed to a tall, thin silhouette. Harry shuddered visibly, acknowledging that Voldemort had to summon his followers but he listened to what this was about.

"... the priority is the mission that I asked of you, Lucius, but nevertheless, if you find the information on this adopted son of Flamel, do not hesitate to tell me. Severus, my faithful servant, you have seen him during this week ... what do you think of this boy?

"He is several years behind and does not really seem to excel in learning," criticized Snape in a neutral voice. "From the reports I have heard, he has no control over his magic and he tends to cause disasters, including in potions. One would expect anything else from a pupil of Nicholas Flamel the alchemist. "

"I see ... and yet, he unravelled the secret of Nicholas Flamel …" Voldemort muttered coldly "Lucius, tell your son to continue to observe ... You never know what will reveal itself."

And Harry found himself suddenly lying on the lawn of the grounds with his friends looking at him worriedly and not in the middle of Death Eaters of all kinds. He felt ill, nauseous when he thought about this meeting and about the discussion. Edward stared, confused, not knowing what was happening. Harry had not made him aware of the visions he received from Voldemort and he did not want to tell him that he could become a target in this war. He tried to get up but Hermione told him to stay still for a while because of his discomfort despite his attempts to make her understand silently that he had a vision. He resigned himself to say it aloud, causing an increase in the level of concern and amazement of Edward, and of course, the whole group wanted to know what it was and finally he resigned himself to reveal what he had seen to everyone.

When he finished, they all stared at the boy with an air of pity, but overall, Edward seemed to take it pretty well- he had only sighed with a fatalistic air. But otherwise, no fear, but Harry knew that Ed did not really know Voldemort, he did not know what he was capable of and he could not be really afraid.

Ron was rather angry with Snape for talking about their friend but Edward seemed to not blame him at all and said casually:

"Because you think a spy will lie all the time when in the enemy camp? A guy who lies all the time makes a bad spy. To spy requires mixing truth and falsehood in the right proportions."

"But now you are a target," Ron raised insistently.

"There is a greater chance for him to take first shots at Harry and then me ... Nothing against you, of course," apologized Edward to the Boy-Who-Lived, who stared at him.

"But if he is still seeking the secret of the philosopher's stone, he will go after you," Hermione said, mortally worried.

"He won't get it from me." Edward replied flatly. "The secret of Nicholas Flamel did not concern his stone."

"So what was it?" Hermione asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

"I swore never to reveal anything," said Edward, very firm and final.

Ed's tone was final and the trio did not pry, knowing that they were more likely to convert Malfoy to the ideal of world peace than get Edward to change his mind. Now, this was what they would do: Hermione wanted Harry to go immediately and see Professor Dumbledore but Harry refused categorically; if he had been ignored for two months why would it matter now... but he had to tell someone. It was Ron who finally proposed telling Sirius, who would then forward the message to Dumbledore. And after that, maybe Dumbledore would finally agree to talk to the young wizard about what he saw …

The trio went to the common room, leaving Edward lying on the lawn, wondering if he had done the right thing by accepting the proposal of Flamel … He was really focused now, but fortunately it was not a priority. The boy wondered to what extent this scenario had been orchestrated: Dumbledore could very well choose to register him under the name of Elric despite his second name and not fanning his "relationship" with Flamel so that no one would be interested in him and he entered the mold as was originally planned. Instead, his name was shouted in the hall when he had all eyes on him. The old Headmaster - had he done this to create a diversion so that Voldemort became dispersed in his objectives? Or he was paranoid and his adoption required the school to use his new name?

* * *

On Saturday morning, Edward was again up early and instead of taking the path around the lake as usual, he walked to the Forbidden Forest, eager to explore. He had taken care to dress in anticipation of exploration: Muggle clothes of black color and strong enough to withstand a bit of sport and sturdy shoes. He also took a bag. He had filled a flask with pumpkin juice and some provisions consisting of cold sausages, bacon, bread and butter and jam and some fruit, (blessed be the breakfasts of England!), which would be sufficient for the entire day in case he got lost.

He reached the edge of the forest and followed a path at random, unworried about the dangers that these woods could shelter. After all, he had his alchemy and training and the magic in his hands was a weapon of unimaginable mass destruction... He hoped not to have to use it.

He advanced resolutely, leaving the path from time to time, seeing the trees of various species become increasingly tightened to the point that the darkness was becoming more prevalent as the sun was blocked out. Eventually, the inevitable happened and he was soon completely lost and delighted to be. He was too full of energy to spend and here there were no witnesses to report his use of alchemy.

The young alchemist quietly leaned against a tree, thinking maybe this forest was not so dangerous as they said... At least until he saw a small band of silver Gytrashes passing by. Some began to be interested in him but he simply demonstrated some simple transmutations to convince them that he was not harmless and that it was better to avoid him. In contrast, blood drinking goblins, very different from their distant banking cousins, nearly seriously injured him and he had to fight much more seriously with more serious transmutations and even some melee, which proved more dangerous than he had expected. He no longer had his automail arm and he had been too inclined to rely on it during his fights. Finally, the creatures fled, leaving him virtually unscathed save some scratches, one on his arm was rather deep but nothing serious. He took the time to eradicate all traces of his struggle, especially those of alchemy, then he ate a sandwich before heading back in the approximate direction of the castle.

He came around the bend of the path, startling a troop of unicorns who scampered off at the sight and thought he saw in the distance a centaur who seemed to watch him with a bow and a quiver. He came to a clearing brighter than the others and decided to locate himself by climbing a tree: he had to be about one kilometre from the castle, as the crow flies, and from the position of the sun, it should be between one or two in the afternoon. He had time for a nap ...

When he awoke, he was surprised to find himself surrounded by the same reptilian horses that pulled the carriages leading students from the station to the school. They seemed strange but not dangerous and their focus seemed to be on the blood from his arm, and one of them started to lick. He should request the name of these critters, one day ...

"These are Thestrals."

Edward sat up immediately when he heard the voice before him: Luna stared at him with her large clear grey eyes and blond hair, a little supernatural apparition in the dark foliage of the woods ... She stroked one of reptilian horses with kindness and a soft smile.

"I had never heard of or even seen these before …" Edward said, raising his eyebrows.

"Only those who have seen death and understood it can view them," Luna informed him in a dreamy voice. She said suddenly: "People think they are a bad omen but they never attack humans. They are very gentle and quiet."

"Normally, death is peaceful …" remarked the boy, smiling a bitter smile.

"Yes, 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep'", quoted the young Ravenclaw gently.

"It's not really my style, I'm more like 'Do not dream your life, live your dream.'"

"That's also good, I suppose," Luna smiled. "Anyway, you seem a little better than yesterday. There are fewer Wrackspurts around you."

"What are Wrackspurts?" Edward asked with a puzzled tone.

"A creature that scrambles your head and keep you from thinking," obligingly answered the girl.

"Yes ... I guess that pretty much describes my state of mind," the alchemist said, laughing.

Then he got up and followed Luna who had decided to return to the castle: he was beginning to like her more and more: she was nice, with an aura of gentle madness around her which made her special, but he appreciated it more and more. Besides that, she too had lost someone dear ... After all, she could also see Thestrals.

Thinking that this week had turned out to be very instructive, he hoped he could return here regularly.

* * *

Translator Notes: The word I starred with an asterisk is, in the original, the word métis, which according to Google and the Harry Potter wiki, is used mostly for referring to those of mixed European-First Nations ancestry in Canada, though the word can also mean half-breed. It isn't used in the French translation of Harry Potter, though, so I just picked a word that fit.

Luna is quoting 4.1.156-8 from the Tempest.


	11. Chapter 11

It was 6 am. Albus Dumbledore pensively watched as Edward Elric ran along the lake as he had made a habit of in recent days. The latest news he received yesterday brought new concerns about the boy. He paused to re-read, thoughtfully, the letter that had arrived the day before from Sirius and Remus, informing him of a vision from Harry Potter. The fact that his student had preferred to talk about his vision with his godfather instead of coming to him had hurt him a little he had to admit, even if it was a result he would have expected given the distance he had established between them. He should have known that a fifteen-year-old boy would take such a reaction badly even if it was for his own good, not to mention that he did not yet know the reasons for the Headmaster's distance ... Another explanation he'd have to give later.

If Harry was more closed to him lately, he seemed to be much more open to his new friend, Edward Elric. When he learned that the young stranger had gotten close to his protégé, he had been worried: Edward could very well be a part, conscious or unconscious, of the plans of Voldemort, intended to weaken Harry, but the letter he read seemed to indicate otherwise, as did the reports of Severus Snape: Voldemort did not know the boy and hadn't known of his existence until his adoption by Flamel had been formalized. And now the poor child had become a target, secondary to Harry, certainly, but to be the object of even a part of Voldemort's attention was enough to significantly reduce life expectancy and the prospect of a quiet life for anyone.

Dumbledore reconsidered the enigma that was Edward Elric in the light of new events and the latest information he had at his disposal:

He had researched the boy, and he did not appear at any time in either muggle nor wizard records, which seemed to indicate a foreign origin or that someone had deliberately concealed his existence.

His age also had to be revised upwards: although his size seemed to indicate he was only thirteen or fourteen, his instinctive way of reacting when it was suggested he was small and a certain maturity revealed he had to be between fifteen and seventeen.

The third fact of which Dumbledore was certain was that Ed had not lived a happy and carefree childhood like many children: his reaction to the Dementors, the form taken by his Boggart and the fact that he can see Thestrals attested to this. He had numerous injuries, some of them life threatening: the amputation of his leg, another that indicated he had been pierced by something all the way through and finally the scar around his right arm that could have been caused by God knows what means, not counting the many other brands that dotted his body ... All these injuries were not those inflicted by abuse but rather those that were found among survivors of a battlefield.

Other evidence supported this hypothesis: the rigorous training the young boy did every day, as if someone had imprinted the exercises into his skull, the way he didn't discuss (too much) orders given to him, the military bearing he had adopted when he was being interrogated by the Wizengamot, his mannerisms that matched those of Moody in his constant observation of his environment on the lookout for potential enemies, and the fact that he knew how to fight with his bare hands, as several rash Slytherins had discovered. Edward Elric seemed to have experienced war, not as someone on the side-lines but as someone who had fought as a child soldier.

But not a child soldier like most. His analytical skills and problem solving, his great intelligence and vast general knowledge (in Muggle subjects and the fact that the teen was multilingual), the way he approached magic and sought to understand it...the boy was unquestionably a genius, perhaps the same level as Tom Riddle or himself, which was strange. When one trains a child soldier, you try to brainwash, not develop intellect and critical thinking skills.

Now that the Headmaster thought about it, Edward was like a secret weapon. Somebody might have formed and trained him in a goal, a weapon that had been used ... Could it be that the young boy had military experience? The thought was deeply disturbing and distressing but the facts appeared to support the hypothesis.

Only there was no way to check: amnesia was a real and possible side effect of trauma, and Dumbledore had no idea what that trauma could have been. He already had several theories on the matter:

The first would be that the amnesia was purely accidental, but the Headmaster felt this unlikely. It was hard to believe in accidents with Edward.

The second hypothesis was that it was induced amnesia: someone (wizard or Muggle) had tried to erase the boy's memory when he saw something he was not supposed to see. But in this case, why not simply kill the child? However, further evidence came with the state of the teen when he had been found; Edward looked like someone had already tried to kill him. This hypothesis was therefore quite valid.

Then came the last hypothesis: the boy had made himself an amnesiac, to stem trauma or to protect himself. A kind of natural occlumency which could explain why it was so difficult to penetrate Edward's mind. The Headmaster felt that this theory was the most likely, and it had the advantage of explaining the failures of Legilimency.

When he thought of Edward's personality, he had the impression of an almost bipolar person: the blond often had a short temper, ready to go, was always restless, constantly moving, imaginative and curious about everything. If he stumbled on a problem, he tried to solve it without missing a beat, resolved it in his own way and carried on. Undeterred or slowed down by difficulties, which illustrated a way of seeing things optimistically, as he was convinced there was always a solution. He seemed to have quicksilver in his veins.

But on the other hand, he could sometimes be very calm and quiet, extremely mature, doing with a kind of wisdom as testified to in his discussion with Nicholas Flamel. At times, his serious face seemed to express a lot of emotions: introspection, calm and resolute determination, and rarely, great gentleness, compassion or understanding often accompanied by sadness and bitterness ...

In short, you could tell he had a very rich personality, which might be why the Sorting Hat had hesitated so long before Sorting him. Of course, the latter had not explained the delay.

It remained to be seen whether the boy was a danger to the Order and to Harry. Edward seemed to really enjoy the company Boy Who Lived, and became friends with him without ever having learned of his status in the magical world, which had to be refreshing for the young boy.

They had much in common, including being survivors, there was no doubt about it for one or the other. They both were pretty natural heavy hitters, but were often apt to reflection. They were obviously used to taking charge, and both could fight. Although Edward was a mystery and therefore a potential hazard, he could also bring Harry new ideas and develop good qualities.

As for Edward... what he needed, decided Dumbledore, were ties to this world he did not know well. He seemed very reluctant to forge friendships with members of his house, confining himself to Harry and his small group, and, curiously, to Luna Lovegood, an eccentric young girl. He did not refuse because of lack of love as Tom had done before, but more as someone who thought he would not stay here forever and would have to leave everything. It would change as he came to understand that Hogwarts and the magical world were his home now.

* * *

Meanwhile, indifferent to what others might think of him, Edward went back to the castle. He had at least two hours before classes began, of course, which in reality were useless to him. He knew the theory and was prohibited from practicing magic when there were students nearby. The only classes in which he could do something were Herbology, Potions (but only while being watched as if he was a toy with a nuclear battery) and Astronomy. As a result, Edward was strongly tempted to get rid of the students in his class, the entire teaching team, Dumbledore and Truth. Especially the latter, in fact: why make him a wizard if he was not able to perform a spell correctly? Feeling too angry to eat breakfast with his housemates, he went towards a little used part of the castle to lock himself in an empty classroom to meditate.

This had the advantage of calming him and allowing him to regain the feeling of alchemy (without practicing unfortunately) and understanding new things about the universe. At each session, he grasped at the knowledge he'd gained, knowing one day or another something would prove useful, at least he hoped it would. In any case, it allowed him to better understand the physical mechanisms at work behind each spell and how to cast them. A very significant thing because otherwise he would have been forced to run for muggle physics books whenever he wanted to cast even a simple spell, not that this didn't already happen now and then.

For an hour, he meditated, ran through the mainstream of the universe with the same ease as a salmon swimming against the current of a rocky river. When he came out of his trance, he stood up and pulled out his wand to train. Luckily, no one would hear him here because it was an old disused room that nobody had thought to get rid of the furniture for: there were even old comfortable cushions in the corner that could to be used for certain spells and that proved very useful for meditation.

He decided to try a new series of tests to cast spells, with the aim to dispose of the surplus energy that prevented him from doing this properly. But what of that energy surplus? He had to put it somewhere... The idea then came to him: he could transfer it to his body to act as a shock absorber. He took a deep breath, focused deeply and cast Lumos, bright as a stage projector. Not that much… Another try.

He stifled a cry of pain when he felt a wave of energy push through his arm, numbing it from the shock. He could even feel his heart beat faster as a result of this power. But his Lumos had reduced itself to the mere capacity of a light bulb, a big light bulb, but it was clear progress. He uttered a cry of triumph this time, and smiled. For the pain he was suffering was nothing compared to what he had endured during his automail surgery, so it shouldn't pose any problems... The biggest worry that remained was that his speed to cast the spell was roughly equivalent to that of an asthmatic snail, but you can't have everything.

He went down in the Great Hall in an excellent mood ... until he remembered the title of yesterday's newspaper: Dolores Umbridge appointed High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. That wizards could even consider using such a title was either risky as hell or extremely stupid; Edward preferred to think it was a mixture of both, which was rather worrying for the future of the wizarding population... The hag had already inspected History of Magic and declared that there was nothing to change, which was not very surprising given that the class only studied the wizard perspective, carefully ignoring the muggle contexts or the versions from other magical communities.

He had discussed this once with Hermione, who had been quite in agreement with him. Minutes later, he found himself overwhelmed by a speech on of the young witch's pet topics: house elves. After fifteen minutes of ranting on the subject, Edward was able to escape by claiming he had a class, while swearing that one of these days he would visit the kitchen of the castle, just to make up his own mind on the issue.

But back to the problem: Umbridge's growing influence was beginning to show on the horizon. She had more freedom regarding punishment and if Edward did not want to spend the rest of the year getting lots of scars on his right hand that he had so recently regained he either had to keep calm during his classes (unlikely) or find a good pair of ear plugs. He chose the second option, and was able to attend his Defence classes with a perfectly empty face, hoping she never took the time to notice the trick. Fortunately, the woman's contempt for Muggles almost guaranteed that she had no clue about this invention.

When he entered the Charms classroom, he saw that the infamous DADA professor was already sitting in a corner. Edward knew that the Inquisitor had already inspected the course with the seventh years. Her presence here therefore meant that she had decided to try and sack Flitwick because of his goblin ancestry, or that she was after him, or both. When the tiny professor started the practical part of the lesson, Ed could not miss the nervous look he sent her and winced. Flitwick began to inspect the work of other students, trying to keep him to the end until the cough of the abominable woman interrupted the course. She wondered aloud why he was not demonstrating his skills.

The Charms professor heaved an imperceptible sigh and nodded towards Edward, who concentrated all his forces and eventually cast the spell just right, unlocking only his box.

Flitwick seemed pleasantly surprised with the results; Umbridge seemed to have swallowed a basket of lemons, judging by her face. She left the room quickly.

Edward talked for a few minutes with the teacher, who seemed relieved that he apparently found a trick to get control of his magic. To see if this was the case, Flitwick asked Ed to try Wingardium Leviosa a few times. He succeeded, although he was still a little rough ... Professor Flitwick was delighted and informed Ed that in his class, at least, he could step it up without any problems.

Edward left the course, delighted but feeling a little nauseous and feverish. As the side effects of his technique began to be severely felt he had the impression of being overheated and had to do something ... but out of sight of everyone, including prying tablemates. He rushed to his favorite room and shut himself in immediately, slumping against a wall. He trembled in every limb, feeling unable to stand on his feet, panting as if he had run a marathon. His fever seemed to get worse and instinctively, he formed a circle with his hands and slammed them to the ground, creating many Gothic style statues, without any effort. He found that he felt like he did on the Promised Day, when Scar's brother's inverted circle had been activated and granted access to alchemy without the interference of the philosopher's stone. An increase in his alchemical power, probably because of the magical energy stored up in him and using alchemy allowed him to lower the pressure. He already felt better and could leave quietly ... after removing the evidence.

* * *

A few days later, Edward was feeling rather pleased with himself: he had successfully passed tests for the second year level. History of Magic was the simple recitation of memorized facts, Potions had consisted of a rather complicated test from Snape, who seemed reluctant to pass him. He had narrowly passed Transfiguration because he refused to work with anything alive; luckily, working with the inert was very easy for him and the theory was half points. Herbology and Astronomy were very easy and had him recite basic information. His only problem resided in the Defence test: Edward had perjured himself, denied everything in which he believed by saying that the best defence was not to attack and that negotiation solved all the problems in order to pass the exam. He did not think he would recover.

In worse news, the fatigue and pain from spells took longer and longer to disappear, but it was worth it not to be shoved in with the eleven-year olds. His right arm, weakened by its time behind the Gate, was unfortunately the part that suffered the most and he had to regularly change his wand hand to relieve it. But it was the only solution to avoid overpowering spells he had, so he had no choice except to carry on.

To celebrate his passage to the second year Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins had decided to organize a party on the lawn for both this and Hermione's birthday. The celebration was full of joy and good humor, with all present enjoying Edward's thoughts on the Defence teacher. Hermione took the opportunity to bring up a subject that had long been debated, it seemed: the idea of organizing a clandestine Defence Against the Dark Arts class featuring Harry as the teacher. Edward was immediately supportive but the Boy Who Lived categorically refused, however, Ed could see he could not stop thinking about the idea. He gave a nod to Hermione and advised her (quietly) to continue to plan and ask Harry again later.

* * *

The next day was a Saturday and like every weekend since September, Edward walked to the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Last week, he had met some interesting creatures like giant spiders that had confused him with breakfast. He had quickly educated them with an alchemically enhanced fight. Trolls were tough enough but they were stupid and too slow to catch him and they fell easily into the young alchemist's traps. Edward had begun to love this place. There was danger, certainly, but it had the advantage of increasing his combat capabilities: for a bit, Ed would have thought back to his training on the island with the attacks from Mason, except that here he could properly retaliate.

After sending some savage goblins running, he climbed a tree and took a nap. This one was short lived because someone called out from below. Opening one eye, the young daredevil saw a centaur was watching him. Not wanting to make him wait, he jumped down from his tree and landed smoothly on the ground and was able to better look at the creature. His coat was white, he had blue eyes, and he seemed quite young. He had a friendly air.

"Are you the boy who comes to the woods every few days?" The half man, half horse asked.

"I guess. I haven't met anyone else here," Edward said with a shrug.

"In this case, I must ask you to follow me. Magorian, the leader of our herd, wants to see you."

Generally speaking, it was not advisable to follow strangers, especially when one is alone in the forest. But the young human had great confidence in his abilities to get out of a bad situation and above all, he trusted the centaur who had a peaceful look. So, he followed and soon came to a clearing where a small group of centaurs waited in a semi-circle.

"You're the human who likes to change our forest?" exclaimed one of the members of the host committee, with a black coat and hair of the same color.

"I suppose so, it must be me," replied Edward. "But I try to leave the place in order when I leave."

"We're not here to discuss this, Bane," said the centaur who appeared to be the leader of the group before turning to Edward: "What's your name, colt?"

"My name is Edward Elric," said Ed trying not to wince: getting angry was not recommended in a place where everyone carried a bow.

"Very good, young Edward, you know what divination is?" Magorian asked, approaching Edward.

"A branch of Magic where you pretend to read the future with crystal balls," said the young scientist.

"That's right, but we practice divination in a different form from that of humans. It is to read in the stars the great cycles of war and peace, the history of nations, the rise and fall of the races. Small depravities faced by men in their daily lives do not interest them. "

"In any case, I do not think you can read the truth in the stars," Edward stated flatly.

"Are you so sure? The movement of the stars of heaven can play much in human destiny."

The boy was about to refute the argument of the speaker before stopping himself: the moon and the sun of his world had indeed played a crucial part during the Promised Day, to the point that an entire country would have been destroyed because of it. So he changed his answer: "Suppose this is the case. What is the reason for my being here?"

"The stars are not interested in individuals normally, but some phenomena exist to mark those people who can have an impact on the world as comets or shooting stars."

"I doubt that there was a rain of shooting stars on the day of my birth," Edward replied tongue in cheek.

"No, but recently, we felt a change in the Great Current that weaves the movement of stars, to the point that a new star has appeared in our sky."

"That is a supernova, a dying star that exploded. Professor Sinistra and the Muggle press talked about it," remarked the young scientist sceptically.

"Indeed. But for us, the significance of such luminary means death and/or rebirth. It appeared on July 3," explained the leader of the herd.

"So what?" Edward asked, while shuddering inwardly. July 3 was the night of his arrival in this world.

"We believe that you could be tied to the star," interjected the blond centaur, "because of the power you used in this forest."

"I cannot comment on that," said the boy.

He knew he was venturing on shaky ground since it was forbidden to reveal information about alchemy. The fact he'd used it here, with witnesses, could hardly be even more embarrassing. Technically, he had no right to talk to wizards: centaurs were not part of the bargain, but he knew he should avoid playing too much with his promise.

"You'll tell us what you know," cried Bane furiously, his hand approaching too close to his bow and his quiver.

"I cannot," Edward replied, looking Magorian in the eyes.

"You cannot or will not you?" asked the centaur, thoughtful.

"I have no right," said the alchemist, feeling the razor's edge of his promise.

"In that case, you can leave, Edward Elric. Even we, centaurs, do not know the reasons that drive the Great Current. If the reason for your presence should be hidden from us, so be it."

"Thank you," Edward said simply.

Then he began to turn back away slowly from the clearing and the circle of centaurs, but continued to listen to the conversation between them as he left.

"Magorian! I oppose this decision," exclaimed Bane again.

"Peace, Bane. We will not do harm to a foal, even for answers. In this world, we, centaurs, are mere observers, custodians of knowledge, and this is the reason for being that was given to us. To others was given the capacity to act and fight. "

The last sounds of the discussion vanished, though Edward was still thinking about the conversation: strange beings, those centaurs. The boy did not know whether he liked them or not, some were frankly assholes, others seemed reasonable and he could talk with them. But he also reflected on the information he had just received:

He had never believed in astrology but it was hard not to see any coincidences with what was happening... The onset of this damn supernova could well have been orchestrated... If it had already been decided when he would return to his world he was going to punch the Truth, or at least he would try even if it was the last thing he would do in the world.

The way in which the centaurs also seemed to be in touch with what they called the Great Current was intriguing. Their relationship with the vital flow that drove the universe apparently allowed them to ''read'' the future, to understand the major developments in the world. Maybe it was true for them. Maybe that was what Flitwick had insinuated. In this world, every magical species had a special relationship with this force that ran the universe, in the same way an alchemist could feel it...

It would be interesting to see how the other races interacted with magic, maybe he could learn more about its use... If he remembered correctly, Hermione had mentioned that the entrance to the kitchen where the elves worked was close to the Hufflepuff common room, behind a still life. It was time to get out of the forest and find that painting.

* * *

Two hours later, Edward was still muttering to himself about the time he'd wasted trying to find his way out of the forest. At least he had found the still life in question.

Now he just had to remember how to get in: it was not a password since it was not a portrait, so some sort of an action: insult the apple? Tell a joke?

Ah, no, tickle the pear. He then went into the kitchen, which was as large as the Great Hall, in which ran dozens of small creatures not unlike Kreature from 12 Grimmauld but much more friendly and helpful looking. Soon, he was inundated with offers from smaller beings, offering him cakes or a drink, so he finally settled on one of the tables and accept the offered tea while watching the elves. They were all dressed alike, in a kind of toga like uniform with the Hogwarts coat of arms on it.

It soon became evident that these creatures did have a way to use magic that was different from wizards: they did not use a wand. Some were performing magic by snapping and could apparate in the enclosure of Hogwarts, something impossible in theory. An old elf came to see him to see if he wanted anything and was extremely surprised when Edward said he just wanted to know more about them. Another elf asked suspiciously if he wanted to release them like another human had tried. Knowing he had to be speaking of Hermione, the boy assured her that he just wanted to understand what they were doing, why it was so, that sort of thing...

The old elf, whose name was Winry, to Ed's great amusement and profound nostalgia, then began talking about lot of little things not really related to what he wanted but which were very instructive legends about their origins, nonetheless. The stories had lots of imagery, the elves did not seem to care about scientific approaches and were difficult to understand but their stories were interesting: that bad elf who betrayed his master (all eyes were turned towards a particular elf), the story of the small elf who wanted to see the world and then return back home, that of safety is better than freedom. Somewhat naive tales told to young elves… From what the boy grasped, it was normal for elves to live attached to a wizarding family who protected them. As far as he could tell, it was a relationship of near symbiosis: the elves were receiving protection in exchange for free work. If this relationship was broken and they received clothes the elves could suffer serious consequences such as diseases and the loss of their magic. But in any case, that did not explain how the little elf with the many mismatched hats that seemed ostracized could get along so well.

So, he became acquainted with Dobby the elf and asked for clarification. The explanations of that was more laborious: the elf seemed to hero worship Harry Potter because he had helped him and spent his time singing his praises. After an hour of putting Ed's patience to the test, he finally understood that Dobby was abused by his family, which technically was a breach of contract between him and his wizarding family, which allowed him to act against the Malfoy family within certain limits, and that his agreement had finally been broken when he received a sock from his master due to trickery from the Boy Who Lived.

Clearly, Edward wrote in his book, in the past, there had to be a symbiotic relationship between the two species that brought benefits to everyone; it was not slavery but a roughly equivalent exchange: protection for services. Breaches of contract for elves involved great risk for them, even possible death, unless it was the humans in the wrong by ceasing to protect them. But gradually as time passed, the more disreputable witches and wizards could persuade the elves that the abuse was normal and the elves were so conditioned that they do not rebel, thinking they might die if they did... They have not learned that protection is due to them. That's why little Dobby appears to be ostracized. The other elves at Hogwarts do not understand that he rebelled because at Hogwarts, no one mistreats them and they probably think it's the same everywhere...

It was something that just might interest Hermione, provided she let him talk... He could see her giving a speech on releasing the elves from their working conditions. The witch had really very noble intentions and high ideals, a true Gryffindor according to the values displayed in her,house but she lacked an essential element to start changes: understanding. In alchemy, it was an essential initial step for any changes. It was not only understanding in the sense of knowledge or ability, but also to know people, to grasp them in their entirety. He himself had finally been able to grasp this reality as a whole only a few months ago, and he had applied himself to try to understand the Homunculi: Greed, Envy, Pride...

As he walked back to his common room, he thought that, finally, in his quest, he had not only grown in size...

* * *

Original author's note:

Regarding Dumbledore: yes, I do write him as a little manipulative. I do not know what the general opinion is on Dumbledore: is he the equivalent of Merlin or a puppeteer making people dance? My opinion of Dumbledore is that he actually seeks the good of all, but as Flitwick said, sometimes what one considers good for someone is not the best for that person. Moreover, Dumbledore is old and at this age, there is a tendency to believe that one has the answer to everything, or that others do not have enough experience to make the right decisions and that is why it is difficult to do good by them. But experience is built by acting, choosing, making mistakes and learning from them. Even if the older person hadn't made the mistake before, sometimes you have to let the mistake happen…

* * *

Translator's notes: Not much to mention, except that in second to last paragraph. In the original, Ed uses savoir and connaître, two words that both mean to know or refer to knowledge. However, savoir refers to knowing facts or information, connaître refers to knowing people or places in a little less objective way. I couldn't think of anything that had similar connotations in English, so I used knowledge (information) and ability (knowing oneself) for this.

Let me know if you see any errors!


	12. Chapter 12

It had been several weeks, but Edward had (finally) managed to graduate to the third year, thanks to his hard work. He still had not found the miracle solution to his pain problem when he applied his spell-casting method, to his great annoyance, but at least he had moved up to the next grade…

And one of the real benefits of that was that he could go out to Hogsmeade and attend the meeting organized by Hermione for defence classes. As soon as possible he was out exploring the town before going to the Hog's Head: Honeydukes was very tempting, as he still had a bit of a sweet tooth and some of the candies seemed very interesting. Unfortunately, he could not buy a lot since he didn't have much money, despite his inheritance, and he could only choose a few samples. Finally, he made it to the bar at the end of the village and entered the seedy establishment; it was grimy, with a foul-mouthed bartender who was definitely unethical. Ed's face lit up with an almost mischievous smile and he walked to the counter and ordered a drink of Fire Whiskey. Colonel Mustang had always mocked him for not being the drinking age and for being too ''small'' and now he had the perfect opportunity to try it, especially since technically, in this world it was practically tradition. He took a sip of his drink and vowed not to touch alcohol before he reached the age of majority in Amestris: his throat was on fire, his intestinal flora would probably repel everything forever after this Attila of a drink, and his headache was back with a vengeance. He poured the rest of his glass in a spittoon on the floor and waited for the others, rubbing his head.

He waved at the Gryffindor trio when they entered the bar. When they saw the empty glass on the table before him, he received an incredulous look from Ron and a disapproving one from Hermione while Harry just shook his head. When the youngest Weasley son started walking up to the counter with the intention of imitating Ed, Hermione gave him a vigorous slap which ended the boy's desire to learn to drink and she began to give him a sermon on the evils of alcohol. The arrival of the rest of the people interested in Hermione's proposal ended her little speech so the meeting could begin.

Overall, the thirty students were pretty receptive to the plan, though some seemed to be there a bit reluctantly, like the complaining Hufflepuff. The project still did not seem very organized but they had the idea and improvisation can sometimes work wonders … provided that nothing particularly dangerous crossed their path anytime soon... But Edward had not lived in hiding for several months for nothing and he could see that they were being observed since Harry's arrival here by at least two people. One of them had to be part of the Order of the Phoenix but the other... He would have to at least get rid of any witnesses; otherwise, by tonight, the Inquisitor would know of their project and do her best to get in the way. So he waited patiently for the end of the meeting before asking, as the trio walked towards the castle, if they had planned something against Umbridge.

"According to Article 78 of the Hogwarts regulations," quoted Hermione, "we are fully entitled to establish any association that the Headmaster did not formally prohibit. So long as we are sufficiently discreet and Umbridge doesn't hear about it, everything will be fine."

"What if someone tells?" Harry asked, looking worried.

"Then the culprit will be pretty obvious: I put a jinx on the piece of paper. If someone snitches, they'll get SNEAK on their forehead in boils," Hermione said with a satisfied smile.

"Wouldn't it be better to cast a spell that simply prevents anyone from revealing a secret? That must exist, right?" Edward asked, puzzled.

"I've looked: there is one but it can only be used with both parties' consent. There's another one that only the Ministry of Magic knows," clarified the young witch.

Harry frowned as if Hermione's words had reminded him of something but Edward interrupted his train of thoughts, saying, "In that case, you can be certain that the old hag will know by tonight, Monday at the latest and our club will be banned."

"But the meeting was in a place away from Hogwarts! I took explicit precautions to prevent this," exclaimed Hermione with some distress in her voice.

"If you want to hide something, the square is in full view," said Edward. "We always notice something more when it is not in its place and we were not at our place in a seedy bar."

"Speaking of the bar, what were you doing with a glass of alcohol in your hands?" asked the girl as she raised an eyebrow in a way jarringly similar to Mrs. Weasley.

"I wanted to try it..." Edward said sheepishly before being overwhelmed by a second sermon.

* * *

Hours later, after curfew had fallen, Edward tried to head to his disused room to offload his excess energy. His head was spinning and the amount of alcohol he'd ingested (however small) probably did not help matters. His fever weakened him and he finally collapsed to the ground, half conscious.

"Well, well, what do we have here ... a student out of bed?" sneered Filch. Then, addressing his cat, he ordered Mrs. Norris to go get the inquisitor.

A few minutes later, the arrival of a blurry mass in a certain shade made it clear to Edward that his situation was somehow getting worse.

"Hem, hem. I see Mr. Elric does not feel bound by the rules. A week of detention should-"

"Hush, Dolores. Look, this boy is sick and truly needs to go to the infirmary," interrupted McGonagall, wearing an emerald night dress. She cast a levitation spell on the boy and carried him to the infirmary.

A few minutes later, Madame Pomfrey placed the boy in a bed and cast several diagnostic spells on the patient, ignoring the frowning and inquisitive eyes of Professor Umbridge. Concerned, the healer asked McGonagall to fetch Professor Flitwick. A few minutes later, the little professor arrived and saw his student lying on the bed.

"He has a magical fever, Professor. He has too much magic in him and it has overloaded his body. I do not know how he was able to do that: it looks like he suffered a shock of pure magic.."

"I see," murmured the professor, a little worried.

"Professor Umbridge," interjected the healer, who saw Flitwick's nerves about talking to her. "I won't ask you to leave the hospital, but this boy is obviously very ill and I do not know yet what it is. It may prove contagious..."

The odious woman disappeared from the infirmary at an amazing speed for a paper-pushing official.

"What do you think it could be, Filius?" Madam Pomfrey asked then, placing a damp cloth on the teen's forehead, "because I have never seen such a syndrome."

"I think it could be an excess of magic in the body. From my observations, young Edward seems to use his magic in a rather special way, much like some magical creatures."

"And that's bad?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"There are many theories on how we interact with magic," explained Professor Flitwick gravely. "But this is a subject that remains very much taboo. Many magical communities claim to be in close relationship with an energy that they give different names but designate the same force. The Greater Current or Flux for centaurs; the Universal Cycle for Goblins; the Source for house elves: this concept truly being magic."

"And wizards use the energy of our magical heart mixed with telluric forces to ..." began Professor McGonagall.

"That is what some researchers agree. However, if it is in fact true that we use only these two forms of energy to use magic, normal wizards would be unable to produce spells exceeding fourth year levels if they used only two forms of energy. " stated the Professor.

"But -but then how are we capable of magic?" stammered the Transfiguration teacher, who had just seen her world turned upside down by the statement of her colleague.

"In the same way as other magical creatures: by using the magic that is present in our universe, but, unlike them, we are unable to perceive or feel it. The wand is responsible for this. It works for us by serving as a bridge between the heart and outside magic, by refining it and making it easier to use."

"But then doesn't that mean we use magic in the same way as magical beings?" clarified the Healer.

"It would be an insult to magical creatures," said Flitwick with a slightly predatory smile, inherited from his distant goblin ancestors. "The magical creatures are much more linked to the magic than simple wizards and they have access to greater power."

"But then, if they are too powerful, why do they not overthrow the wizards who have oppressed them for centuries?" asked Professor McGonagall, remembering her previous history classes.

"This large amount of magical power is used to power their bodies that consume a lot of magic because of their multiple capabilities and, unlike us, they do not have the ability to use wands that could allow them greater power."

"But why is this theory not taught?" Asked the Transfiguration teacher, stunned that such a revolutionary theory was not broadcast.

"Because the principal researchers conducting research on the issue generally profess purist ideologies and refuse to think that there may be similarities between wizards and I quote, 'unadvanced creatures who practice an inferior form of magic'," said Professor Flitwick with bitterness and a trace of anger in his voice. "They cannot accept that magical beings can better understand the magic they use than them."

"Indeed."

The three wizards gathered in the room jumped and turned in unison to face Professor Dumbledore, who looked at them with a twinkle in his eyes that quickly became serious when they landed on Edward: unconscious, still lying on the bed. Then the old wizard added some details to the words of Flitwick:

"I believe that even today, the theories of Augustus Rookwood, despite being a convicted Death Eater imprisoned in Azkaban, are still considered the only fact, while other theories aren't published in official publications and are confined to more unusual magazines like the Quibbler. "

"Why have you not tried to disseminate these assumptions?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"The curriculum is largely decided by the Board of Directors which has been under the control of Malfoy for decades. I have brought some books on the subject that have been relegated to the wayside. But you must remember that theories may change too. It is not my right to assert things as true without proof- that power the Board arrogates to itself."

"What do you truly believe, Albus?" Minerva asked.

"I think there is a good chance that it is true. The day I witnessed one of Mr. Elric's spectacular magical accidents, he described the sensation he felt. He asked me ' _Is it always like that when you use magic? This unlimited power and a sensation that seems to overwhelm you?_ ' It was obvious to me that day he felt magic a very different way to us."

"So, he is a hybrid?" Flitwick asked, wanting to confirm his hypothesis.

"Impossible to know, but a priori I would say no. This boy is an anomaly and not only because of his very peculiar way of performing magic. You see, he has discovered his magic, but two months before that the detection spells identified him as a muggle."

"In this case, there is little chance that he is a hybrid," decreed the Charms teacher ,before continuing. "Their magic is revealed very early and very violently, unless something happened in his past to block his access to magic."

"With this boy, it could be anything," sighed McGonagall.

"In the meantime, I'll try a magical purge," murmured Madame Pomfrey reluctantly, seeing that the teen's fever had not abated. "It is very dangerous and very unpleasant but it will rid his body of the excess. I use it to get rid of very powerful enchantments, magic or otherwise harmful. When we must resort to muggle surgery, we must stop the patient's magical heart to prevent the instinctive use of defensive magic. It can be pretty impressive."

"Do, please," allowed Professor Dumbledore. The healer headed to her cabinet seek the potion in a hurry.

A few minutes later, she returned, holding a tiny bottle whose contents she poured into the throat of the patient. Then she stood ready with her wand, apparently waiting for something. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were aware that their esteemed colleague never got out her wand for nothing and stood back while the Headmaster seemed to be waiting quietly. Edward's body began to shine violently, as if magic was trying to get out at any price through every orifice, including his pores. The boy was wracked by violent convulsions, as if writhing in pain, which was probably the case, even though he was unconscious. The healer leapt backwards and with a flick of her wand, she vanished the windows very quickly and began to redirect the sort of golden aura which now emanated from the young wizard, aided by Dumbledore. Edward appeared to silently explode without any noise or causing any damage, while the blast of the explosion spread bright sparks throughout the hall.

Part of this golden dust was deposited in the infirmary on all surrounding furniture. With his wand, the venerable wizard collected the gold particles and poured into a leather pouch and put it on the bedside table of the boy.

The two wizards repeated this twice before seeing the patient stop his spasms. Edward seemed to sink into a deep sleep, remaining completely still. Professor Dumbledore reappeared the windows and turned to the two teachers, who were a little shocked by the violent healing which they had just witnessed:

"Beautiful, is it not? Magic in its pure state is always nice to see..."

"It would be splendid, Albus," said Madam Pomfrey dryly, "if it was not from the body of this poor boy. That's a downright magic overdose."

"Is that dangerous?" asked the Transfiguration teacher hesitantly.

"It could have killed him," said the healer matter-of-factly. "Filius, I demand that Mr. Elric come here every week for a check up on his magic. And he must find another way to use his magic! These purges will eventually kill him if I am forced to administer them too often."

* * *

Edward woke up on Sunday afternoon. It felt like he had been hit by a steamroller. He ached, in every square inch of his body. There were improvements, though. He had neither a fever nor a migraine. He tried to remember what had happened to him: he had been assaulted in a hallway? He had fought against someone? Ah, yes, he was trying to get rid of his excess of magic by using his alchemy but he had passed out. He had to be in the infirmary that Harry, in his own words, had too often visited.

"Ah, you're awake, Mr. Elric," exclaimed a woman in a white apron.

She advanced forcefully towards him with the same air as his teacher showed when he had made a mistake ...the type that made him want to run away to avoid a beating. Instinctively, he put on a regretful, sheepish face, hoping to soften the nurse without lying to her.

"I just want to ask you a question," said the Healer/dragon. "Do you intend on visiting the infirmary often, or just occasionally?"

"Uh ...I want to avoid it whenever possible," Edward said, a little frightened.

"I ask you this because everything tells me you're the kind of person to need a hospital regularly too."

"Really?" Edward said, as innocently as he could.

"After you almost grilled yourself with your own magic, I did some tests and I think you probably beat the record of Mr. Potter regarding both the severity of injuries and the number of trips to the infirmary you must have required."

"Uh ... great?" Edward said in a questioning tone, before quailing under the withering glare of the healer.

"Not great," growled the nurse in a threatening tone. "If I have to see you as often as Mr. Potter, I will follow through on the threat of a bed reserved for you alone in the infirmary with a plaque with your name on it."

"Interesting way to be remembered," joked Ed.

"Do you have any idea of the number of serious injuries you have had?" Madame Pomfrey asked dryly.

"...Some?" tried the teen.

"I give up! Obviously, it doesn't bother you. Either way, I told your head of house that you have a medical visit here once a week. If you try to… skip these, you will suffer my displeasure."

"Why haven't healers ever thought to conquer the world? They're definitely scary enough for it." Edward muttered.

"We've thought about it, but we'd have to treat everyone afterwards and we don't want the extra hours," replied the healer sarcastically.

"That is a good argument," Edward conceded before asking: "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Until tomorrow," said the healer in a satisfied tone, seeing Ed's face fall.

* * *

The next day, Edward left the infirmary, hoping he did not miss anything interesting. The Education Decree No. 24 he saw on the walls of his common room confirmed his assumption regarding a probable spy at their first meeting was right. The clandestine defence course would therefore be necessary. Not that it bothered him, after all he knew something.

Passing in the hallways, Edward could see the hateful teacher had made enemies with her ban on clubs, teams and other associations: everyone seemed morose; some seemed to harbor murderous cravings. The kind of mood that often-generated interesting reactions with the atmosphere of sedition and injustice. For him, it was like Briggs when General Raven had shown up. The last time it had ended badly for the authority figure.

However, he could also hear conversations that were not at all about the infamous decree, but rather a strange phenomenon: apparently, plants of a beautiful golden color were growing almost out of control just outside the infirmary. The young alchemist tried to convince himself he had nothing to do with it but without much success. He'd have to make sure this kind of thing didn't happen again.

Classes dragged on: he had to avoid using magic and therefore spent his Monday theorizing ways that would allow his magic surplus to disappear without causing damage. Although the idea of creating a black hole that could absorb the excessive magic seemed attractive, he doubted that it could operate without causing a disaster of a global nature ... He did not know what to do and his notes were useless!

Distracted he began to draw various symbols of alchemy, including that of the ouroboros. A snake biting its tail, the symbol of infinity … Feeling that he was on the right track, he continued his train of thought, continuing his drawings: Where was the magic? The Gate. Where would it go? To the door. He had to force the excess energy back to the Portal ... But how? He could not force the door of Truth to remain open for long enough to cast a spell, he did not even know how to do that!

He would need a connection between the door and himself, like the spirit was the link between the soul and the body, but he did not know what kind of thing could do that. Were there even material things behind the gate that could act as a link? So far, he had only seen knowledge ...

It's not as if there was a garden with swings and ... Wait a minute! Ollivander's story ... It was about the Gate and a garden, a garden where the ancestor of the wandseller got the wand, his wand. His wand came from behind the door, it could act as a link ... He was ready for another work session tonight!

That night, the young alchemist worked tirelessly in the abandoned room, trying to convince the piece of wood to absorb his magic too. His trials had caused enormous damage in the room but luckily no one seemed to hear him. He spent hours swearing, insulting his wand, the Truth and magic, suffering some burns and exhausting himself because of his efforts. Finally, at about four in the morning, he cast yet another spell and finally felt a change: As usual, he felt the immense flow of magic wash over him, rushing into his wand and making it tremble violently, ready to cast the spell but this time his tool became freezing cold and seemed, in his eyes, to take a very dark look like when he opened the door of truth, most of the crazy energy seemed to disappear into his wand, a small portion was absorbed by his body and the remaining magic was more than enough to cast the spell to perfection.

But Edward had no time to celebrate this success because he fainted to the stone floor of the small room, recovering his lost hours of sleep …

* * *

Translator's Notes: I couldn't find any of the names for magic Flitwick gives on the Harry Potter Wiki, so I just translated them and left it at that. The text for Article 78 is verbatim from the book.


	13. Chapter 13

Hey! :D Guess who got zer time, energy, and enthusiasm back? C'est moi, bien sûr! I finished this chapter and started chapter 14, so I might be able to post two chapters in one month! Thank you all for the amazing support you all expressed. My health is looking up and school is, at least for now, under control. Let's hope this keeps up!

Don't own anything but this translation.

* * *

chapter 13

Edward woke up at lunch time, having missed the history lesson (Binns never called on him anyway) and Charms (which he could get away with by performing a satisfactory demonstration of the Summoning Charm, despite that being a fourth year spell, not third year.). He felt exhausted but satisfied with his progress, the only thing that annoyed him was that he had taken nearly three months to master his magic. The boy would never know that, despite his serious disability, he had completely reinvented how to use magic: adapting its use to put alchemy and science to the laws of magic. He would never know that this kind of feat would have taken most years, even for bright people, before reaching such a result.

Far from thinking about it, Edward rather thought of the news that had just come from Harry: the secret defense course was beginning this evening. He could not deny that he was impatient. That evening, at about eight, he found himself in the company of Harry, Ron and Hermione on the seventh floor. Edward already knew the place: it was the room where he did his meditation and magic testing. Apparently, this place was called the Room of Requirement and could be transformed as needed. When they entered, they found a room with bookcases, cushions, and instruments which, according to Harry, could be used to detect enemies; the room was spacious enough for the training of dozens of students. Said students were arriving one after the other, marveling at what they saw.

Then it was time to elect the head of the association: Harry was unanimously elected, to his embarrassment. The choice of name was more risky: many seemed to enjoy the provocative name of Dumbledore's Army, which was a bold response to the fears of the Ministry. But Edward cast a pall over that by pointing out the risk they were taking by involving Dumbledore- if they were caught, the Ministry could very well accuse Dumbledore of treason and have him arrested. So, other names were proposed: the Army of Hogwarts was shot down by Ed because AH could very well involve Harry. Finally, they all decided on the very sober SC, or Support Courses.

The training began then, and Edward felt that there was a long way to go: the students had paired off two by two, casting a spell, one after the other, each waiting for the other to finish to a Charm to start theirs. It was a beautiful demonstration of fair play and good conduct in a regulatory duel, but Edward knew it was not the same in real life or in a fight to the death. There were no rules in a war; he had fully understood this during his fight against Kimblee. Knowing how to cast offensive spells was good, but they lacked the spirit to fight without mercy, the improvisation and imagination necessary to survive, the skill to use the environment to defend themselves…

Edward heaved his umpteemth sigh from the front of the stage where he was watching the students' practice. Hermione, a little annoyed by his obvious lack of enthusiasm, asked aloud why he had not thrown a single "expelliarmus" like Harry had asked. All members now turned to him, waiting for his response, ceasing all activity. The boy growled mentally: he had not wanted to undermine the authority of Harry in his "class" but he also wanted to prove his point. He stood up and asked Harry permission for the demonstration he intended to do, which the young man agreed to immediately. A Hufflepuff, Zacharias Smith, had apparently heard of his difficulties in magic and laughed at him in front of everyone else. Edward's smile developed a slightly sadistic air; it was so much better when a victim just presents themself. He took a deep breath and shouted:

"Well, I'll ask some of you to come up here and form a group. I need a charismatic leader: Harry, you'll be perfect for that. I also need two people who work well as a team- the Weasley twins, for example. Someone unpredictable… Luna, if you'll allow me? And I need a third wheel, an idiot. Smith, you will be perfect! Now if all of you will attack me, please, starting… NOW!"

Immediately, Edward ducked and avoided a first spell from Harry, who already knew his methods and had not waited to put up his guard, but his friend put him down with a single punch. Then he turned to Fred and George who seemed to understand what he meant and threw a variety of prank devices and a greenish jelly at him. The young alchemist avoided them by hiding behind a table and then cast lumos without bothering to restrict himself, dazzling them enough to put them out of the fight with some well placed shots while they rubbed their eyes.. Luna shot a Wingardium Leviosa that he dodged in time. Ed took her out quickly, but not before whispering a simple "sorry". Then he turned to Zacharias Smith, who had not tried even a single spell and smiled mischievously before kicking him in the belly (pulling the punch, of course) into the stack of cushions

End of demonstration. That was a real fight," concluded Edward.

"You fight like a Slytherin," muttered Fred, holding his jaw.

"So what, if it works?" Ed asked.

"You fight like a Muggle!" Zacharias was indignant, trying to get up.

"So what, if it works?" retorted the young alchemist with a smirk.

"You didn't cast any spells for defense," Hermione protested.

"And, again, so what if it works?" smiled Edward before continuing: "Are you so naive as to believe that your opponents will play by the rules? No, they will attack treacherously from behind, redundantly, using all possible means to kill you. As for Muggles, stop underestimating them. I brought you down with my fists and spells that even first years know. Knowing how to fight means knowing how to use all means, both magic and Muggle, to attack one another. Whatever you use: fists, a knife, guns or spells, when you're dead, you're dead. And if our opponents despise Muggles and their methods, the better it is for us because it will help me take them by surprise. "

... The silence rang throughout the room.

Then, without waiting, the boy left the room, saying it was nine o'clock and it was better no one catch them.

Hermione gave the starting signal, the curfew having rung. All the students left the room in small groups, some grumbling against Edward, others seeming to admire the teen's demonstration, a few remaining silent and pensive.

The Gryffindor trio left the room last and walked to their common room.

"That got a bit gloomy," Ron muttered.

"Maybe, but it will make them think," Harry said in a firm tone, rubbing his jaw. "He is absolutely right: this is a war. I think we should have him join the classes, and see how he does as an instructor."

"But he doesn't know the spells they'll use, or any to defend himself, and he can't control his magic very well!" Hermione protested.

"He can fight in real life!" Harry, said, angry. "He just beat five students, including myself, who are not very bad, using a spell and boxing! He's more than qualified!"

* * *

A week later, Edward, a bit stressed, paced back and forth before the room thinking of what he wanted. Behind him, the "class" waited, wondering what form the part of the course provided by Edward Elric would take.

Harry had pounced the day after the first session, asking him if he could show the SC members how to fight in a real fight. Edward had wanted to refuse, saying he was not a teacher and he didn't want to take Harry's place, but the Boy-Who-Lived insisted seriously. Having agreed with Harry and Hermione, it was decided that the first part of SC would be provided by Harry and Hermione for learning spells and Edward, helped by Harry, would take charge of the more… realistic part.

The boy had given much thought to the problem; the advantage with magic rooms was that he could let go, use his imagination and create a course that would be really interesting.

So he opened the door and smiled, very satisfied with what he got.

The room now looked like a forest- more specifically, that of the island where he had undergone his month of training with Alphonse. He turned to the assembly that marveled at the scenery around them, touching the trees to see if they was real, and gave them instructions: "The rules are simple: you hide while I count to ten, then I try to find you. If I find you, I'll try to hit you with a _colovaria*_ spell that will mark you as 'dead' and you stop moving. You can try to hit me with all the spells you want. If someone touches me or the clock strikes nine, the game is over and everybody wins. If I can 'kill' you all, I win!"

Once the groups were made, Ed began to count to ten and then turned around, taking care to duck to avoid the attack of the Weasley twins, who had decided to ignore the 'go hide' part of the instructions. Ed congratulated them on their audacity before hitting them with a colovaria.

Then Edward began hunting: he easily found two thirds of the group; most had hidden in bushes or in ditches and they were so confident of being well hidden that they had not even taken out their wands. They were abundantly splashed with green paint. The last third was a bit more complicated: some had realized that they could use their wands and had used spells to better hide themselves, earning positive remarks. Some had fought to escape their fate, also earning praise from the alchemist. The Creevey brothers had impressed Ed with their talents in hiding; obviously, their father took them to play hide and hide in the woods when they were little. Harry was the only one who hid above ground level and had almost taken him by surprise; Ginny had always been on the move, showing off.. But in the end, it was Edward who won.

"Well, there were thirty of you and only one of me, yet I still anybody see the problem with this? First, my congratulations to the twins, Fred and George, for their idea to try to tackle me first. The best defense is an attack, but that was too risky. You were out in the open and I could hear you moving around while I counted. Discretion, you guys!"

The twins preened under the compliments, while trying to remove the green paint from their clothes.

"Then the Creevey brothers: congratulations on your hideout, it was excellent. The only problem was that when you're hiding in a tunnel, you have to make sure you make an emergency exit so you can get out if the entrance is blocked. When you're going to hide, keeping in mind that that's only a temporary solution. You can't hide forever; be ready to leave when the opportunity presents itself."

The brothers blushed happily at these remarks.

"Special mention for Ginny, too. Very clever, staying in motion, and good use of magic to cover you but you leave too many traces of where you've been."

Ginny scowled despite the compliments, annoyed to have forgotten this detail.

"Another special mention for Harry, who was the only one to think in three dimensions and realize that the trees are not only good to hide behind ... well played for the ambush, but still not enough!"

Harry just smiled, a good sport.

"Anyway, apart from those I mentioned... You had thirty people, I was alone and I still won. Next time, I will organize the same game and if no one gets me before the end of the game, I'll use something particularly humiliating spell. Remember these key tips: do not hesitate to attack, hiding spots are never permanent, always stay in motion, think in three dimensions. That's all for today!"

* * *

The weeks that followed were quite exciting for Edward: first, after passing several equivalency tests, he managed to graduate, finally, to the fourth year, which was supposed to be the one corresponding to his false age, even if in certain classes he had skills equal to those of a fifth year. He was close to mastery of Runes and Arithmancy, two subjects he excelled since they were simply runes and computations. ... In addition, he could now cast his spells much more efficiently, to the satisfaction of Madame Pomfrey herself. The only bad part was that he was still very slow casting spells, since he had to focus on the direction and control the power.. But overall, it felt good to get by.

He continued his forays into the Forbidden Forest, exploring it ever deeper. He had met a lot of the strange fauna that frequented the darkest areas of the woods, including a monstrous dog with three heads who pursued him for several kilometers before it gave up.

Centaurs often watched him from a distance but only Firenze, the first he had met, seemed willing to talk with him. They often discussed philosophy: Edward wanted to understand the Centaurs and the way they saw the world and Firenze listened while Ed spoke of his highly pragmatic approach to life. Their perceptions were very different but the blond Centaur was quiet and peaceful and did not try to convince him of anything while Edward had learned to listen. They were almost friends, but the young alchemist avoided saying such, given that the rest of the herd could take a friendship between a human and a centaur poorly.

He sometimes met Luna, also. The girl seemed to have meaningless discussions, but, actually, when you read through the lines, it was very insightful and perceptive. Although Edward was someone rational and scientific, he spent four years of his life searching for a myth, a stone that was not supposed to exist, and yet something he had discovered. So he was quite at ease in the company of a girl regarded as goofy and absentminded ... besides of course that his general view of the world had not changed considerably during his quest. So he often argued with her, especially since her conversation had something soothing. Sometimes she brought him things she found in the forest and analyzed them in her own way: a claw, a snakeskin, feathers, some weird plants, broken arrows. She was all the time as strange a creature as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

* * *

He also met Hagrid when he returned to the Forest. He had met him the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match that brought about a victory for the lion house but probably shortened the lives of Harry and the Weasley twins. He, for most of the match, had put his hands over his eyes so he couldn't see the completely insane acrobatics of the players in general, especially those of Harry. And to think people called him reckless and imprudent! He could not imagine traveling on those pieces of wood a hundred meters above certain death, thank you very much."

But when, during the afternoon, he returned to the Forbidden Forest as he had gone there in the morning, he had a strange encounter: a towering man whose impressive height had increased his own inferiority complex about his height.. But it wasn't really his size that had impressed him about Hagrid, nor was it the fur coat or crossbow. No, it was rather the fact that he was accompanied by a giant named Grawp he called 'little brother'! It reminded him of when Al was in his armor and they journeyed across Amestris...

The half giant had seemed rather surprised to find him there and became especially scared that he saw that Ed had seen the giant behind him.. Hagrid had begged him not to tell anyone about it, not to reveal the presence of Grawp in the woods where apparently he was not supposed to reside. Edward did not have the heart to separate the brothers and he was a bit outside the rules, too. He accepted on the condition that Hagrid didn't say anything about his being in the woods.

He had accompanied Hagrid to where Grawp was sleeping, talking with him and trying to avoid the giant's occasional fingers; he seemed mesmerized by the gold of his hair (' _No, Grawp! No touching!_ ') The conversation had focused on the creatures that inhabited the forest to the delight of Hagrid: "So, you love the creatures here, as well?"

"Let's just say they love me more than I'd like them to," replied Edward, refraining from adding. ' _They'd love me bloody with a bit of salt._ '

"That's good, that I hope Fluffy didn't annoy you too much. He's really just playful."

"Fluffy?" asked the boy, slightly puzzled.

"My three-headed dog!"

Ed had chosen to let it ' _That thing has a name?!'_ and ' _Why, in the name of Truth, would you inflict the name 'Fluffy' on it?'_ and had instead decided to request information from the half giant. He learned, among other things, that it was Hagrid who had trained the Thestrals to pull the stagecoaches, Fluffy slept if you played music for him, the Groundskeeper was on a mission to the giants for Dumbledore, and that it was Hagrid who was responsible for the introduction of the noble race of Acromantulas to the forest of Hogwarts!

Edward thought, fatalistically, that pretty soon the whole school would know he loved roaming the Forbidden Forest: Hagrid's talent for keeping secrets was obviously somewhat questionable. He seemed to be a good-natured and friendly character, sometimes as mature as a first year, but with whom he felt comfortable. The only fault Edward could find with him was that Hagrid tended to call him 'little buddy', but he consoled himself by telling himself that next to Hagrid, everyone seemed small!

The following Saturday, Hagrid did not seem surprised to find him again lurking in the forest. He had told him that he often went there when he was young and he had just lost his father. Sometimes Edward wondered if it was precisely the atmosphere of death and imminent danger that attracted people, two things that sometimes incited people to be at peace with themselves. After all, Edward liked to come here because it was the only place he could be himself.

* * *

Regarding Support Courses, it proceeded quite well, also. When students arrived at its second session, they had seemed ready to fight, saying they were ready to hide on any tree. Edward had not concealed his smile when the room on request had not assumed the appearance of a wood, but a sort of mini neighborhood with garbage and abandoned buildings. He gave them new advice (" _be unpredictable!_ ") then the class had to be introduced to street fighting with Ed in charge to find and eliminate them from the game. Finally, Harry, the last to stay, managed, thanks to the sacrifice of Ron and Ginny, to finally reach Edward, who congratulated the group for their plan.

Although Edward's sessions seemed to make little progress, the majority of the students loved the training of the young alchemist, which looked like games while confronting them with real situations. Although the young Ravenclaw constantly raised the difficulty of the exercise, it was still fun. The young professor was not content to play hide and seek in life-sized environments. He also taught them to fight as a team, to be placed optimally to defend each other while attacking best. He taught them some tactics to set up a trap by using bait, encouraged them to look for weaknesses in their opponents and not to hesitate to insult them. He also had them suffer an obstacle course with Harry, who was inspired by Professor Lupin. In the role of teacher, Edward was a breakout success.

However, he had difficulty in learning spells in duels themselves. He was not fast enough when he cast spells to keep control; suddenly, he was often forced to physically dodge spells jumping a little in every sense and his mischief sometimes sorely lacked precision. He refused to give up control in friendly duels: he remembered too well the warnings of Professor Flitwick about it. If worst came to worst, he knew he could always release all his power against enemies as a last resort, and use alchemy to defeat his opponents. But it was still humbling to see mere children cast a spell easier and faster than him.

* * *

Edward had also given up the idea of holding Harry and his two friends at a distance: he was a human made of flesh and blood, but he also had a soul that needed warmth. He could not only concentrate on his studies or isolate himself in a corner to think about those left in Amestris: whether he liked it or not, he had to forge links in this world that was not his. He therefore accepted the fact that he had become friends with the Gryffindor trio, but also with Luna and he chatted sometimes with Hagrid. He knew that these friendships could never replace his friends (even Mustang), his brother and Winry, who all remained in Amestris, but he could not be alone. Solo work had never been his strong point in his journey. He had always been surrounded by people who had helped him, he was never alone. And now, even if he could not share many things with them, he was attached to his new friends, even knowing that one day he would leave.

He therefore became closer to Harry and the other two, with whom he frequently discussed mainly Support Courses or Umbridge, wondering what new shots she would take at Hogwarts and its students. Harry had taken being excluded from Quidditch very badly. Edward had tried to cheer him up by saying that the lifetime exclusion could very well end with an unfortunate accident for a certain inquisitor, but he could not cheer him up. For Harry, Quidditch was the one thing he used to escape the daily difficulties of life, much like Ed's trips into the Forbidden Forest.

And Harry's problems seemed to get worse: according to him, he felt more and more emotions that were those of Voldemort. Edward would have liked to know how such a thing was possible, but nobody seemed to know anything, much less teenagers who had been sidelined and weren't privy to all the important information. The young alchemist wanted to rush to Dumbledore and seize him by his robe to make him spit out answers while knowing that it would be ineffective.

But at least Harry hadn't had any more visions: they had been rather disturbing for him. On the contrary, he dreamed all the time of a closed door at the end of a hallway. He felt like he had seen it before but could not remember from where. Edward had tried to jog his memory by asking him lots of question, but this revealed nothing.

The young alchemist began to wonder if he would happen one day to find valuable information regarding Voldemort apart from what he had received from the Truth and what he had intercepted during his stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. The only thing he knew was that Voldemort was on track to be immortal, something Ed had seen already, since apparently he had managed to survive his own death when he was fourteen. He was also sufficiently formidable to challenge the Truth, since it seemed to fear that the dark wizard would be able to enter the field of God, powerful enough to send for reinforcements: a simple alchemist in a world where magic was a thousand times more powerful and effective. But why him?

Anyway, for the moment, he still did not know how Voldemort had access to immortality, nor what his plans were. He hated being in the dark. But why did Dumbledore in concealing important information from Harry? And above all, why had he mentioned a prophecy at one of those meetings?

* * *

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was thinking of another prophecy (but not of Harry, who had monopolized the attention of the Order in recent months). Last night, Moody, under the cover of an invisibility cloak, had overheard a conversation between Bode and Croaker while they were preparing to leave the Ministry. According to the old Auror's report, they spoke of an ancient prophecy from 1915 that had been

reactivated, but he could not learn any more because when the two employees left, their conversation was interrupted because of a language-binding spell.

Albus had twice visited the room of the prophecies for the extraction of a prophecy: the first time sixteen years ago, and the second less than two years ago. During his two visits, he had learned that when a prophecy was being realized, it glowed slightly when the predicted event had happened, then it darkened and became obsolete. Prophecies that reactivated were anomalies, and God knows that abnormalities intrigued researchers passionately.

Albus Dumbledore did not know how much attention he should pay to this. Was it related to Voldemort? Or was it completely unrelated? Prophecies were not to be taken lightly: they were a serious warning and if one manifested, it was a sign something important would happen soon.. Worse, this one seemed to have made itself stand out with its originality.

The Headmaster's thought drifted to the Department of Mysteries, a place he had visited for a short part of his life, when he had not yet decided to dedicate his life to teaching. At the time, following the death of Arianna, he was especially interested in death and great mystery without really learning more about the subject. He had never had the opportunity to visit other rooms and there was no reason to stay long once he had found his vocation as a teacher. However, he had always kept in touch with the Department of Mysteries, due to its own research into the mysteries of magic and, although Unspeakables never revealed anything to anyone about their activities, they could very well know when something turned into something to worry about. And this particular prophecy unnerved them, enough to make them worry.

Albus Dumbledore had not gone to the Department of Mysteries aside from the two previous times, but he nevertheless knew one thing: the more important a prophecy, the more it stood out, even more when it was about to come true . He hoped with all his heart that that was not the case with this one: a prophecy about to be realized enough caused enough problems.

* * *

Translation Notes: The charm Ed uses in the game, Colovaria, is an actual canonical charm (the Colour Change Charm) that changes the color of an object. In the original French, the word mel7200 uses is 'peinturlo', which is a clever portmanteau of the word for paint and throw. Also, in an interesting coincidence, Colovaria is the French name for the spell Multicorfors, which changes one's clothes.  
For Hagrid's nickname for Ed, I really struggled, because all the ones I could think of that had the same feel of ' _mon petit_ ' were either very American or out of character for him. 'Lad' was a close second, but I eventually decided on 'little buddy' both because it seemed pretty close and I like _Gilligan's Island_. 'Lad', while definitely British, doesn't convey the, ahem, smallness part. Also, I gave up on trying to write Hagrid's accent. I have no clue how to write it accurately; when I try it reads more like a bad Southern accent.

Bode and Croaker are canon characters, who are Moroz and Funestar in French.


	14. Chapter 14

Hey, everybody! Thank you all so much for the support. I'd still consider this fic on hiatus, at least until the end of April, but I wanted to finish this chapter at the very least. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

chapter 14

December arrived and snow covered the castle grounds. Edward was in the Room of Requirement, preparing the room for the last meeting of the year. Then it would be the Christmas holidays. The boy had never experienced such celebrations and was waiting to see, with varying degrees of impatience, what it was like.

There had never been a lot of holidays in Amestris, as the country had not had a history of religion unlike the rest of the world, and most of the general holidays commemorated military victories. Here it was different religions that had been part of the life of almost all the peoples of the world and they had left their mark on their cultures.

Anyway, it was not like many wizards believed in God anymore; everyone in the castle would rather see Christmas as an occasion to receive and maybe offer gifts.

Edward did not intend on making any gifts for this last evening: he had carefully prepared for the last SC meeting so that everyone would leave with an unforgettable memory. When all the students arrived, he greeted them with a slightly sadistic smile that set off a collective shiver down the backs of an assembly that had all come to know their "teacher" very well during the last two months and knew they could expect anything when he had that psychopathic air… Nevertheless, it also meant that he had ideas and, while the ideas of Edward were certainly a bit painful and sometimes rather humiliating, you could not say they ever got bored! Generally, you could say that they always had fun in training.

"-Welcome, my dear victims, er, students," greeted Edward, flanking the nervous group. "Since this is our last meeting before Christmas, we will be making revisions. If I hear any complaints… watch out!"

No one, including Zacharias Smith, said a word.

"Perfect!" said the boy cheerfully. "I will now put you in groups of four, and, no, you don't get any say in it. In real life, you may very well end up with someone you can't stand, but you have to make it work. Each group will have their own color flag. The goal is simple: each team tries to capture the most flags and beat the most opponents. Someone who is hit more than three times is considered 'dead' and must leave the game. Taking a flag is fifty points, eliminating an opponent is ten points.. The points will be counted on the wall of the room."

"During this exercise," interjected Harry, "you have the right to use all the spells you've learned, including in SC. Be inventive!"

"You can implement all your training for this game," explained Edward. "No holds barred, muggle or wizard, but try not to maim or kill, okay?"

Once the teams were formed and each had received a flag, Edward added, just before he gave the signal to start.:

"Oh, I forgot, I'm also part of the game and I'll try to 'kill' as many people as I can. Hitting me is worth one hundred fifty points and you automatically win the game and my undying respect. Go!"

The game started. Soon, everybody had dispersed into the room, which had taken on the appearance of a labyrinth that the teams quickly got lost in. Some, very intuitive, had quickly understood that they had to get higher and were hoisted on the walls to locate both their way and their opponents. Hermione's team, composed of her, Luna, Zacharias Smith, and Ron had relied both on the intuition and feminine intelligence represented by the young Ravenclaw and much learned Gryffindor, and overall, the result was hilarious because of its contrast.

Deciding that this was the right time to change scenery, Edward who had eliminated three, clapped his hands and the maze gave way to the forest of the second session. All the students had obviously retained his advice well because many had climbed into the foliage and the others were still moving, watching from all sides, including overhead. Edward was proud of them, which did not prevent him from eliminating the Creevey brothers. He had already eliminated the Patil sisters a few minutes earlier. After ten minutes, he cast a glance at the ceiling: three teams already been eliminated out of seven. Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Susan Bones' was leading. Admittedly, Neville was in his element here… time to change the scenery.

He clapped his hands and the room took the appearance of a desert with everyone exposed. Everyone face planted and spells flew at a steady pace until one of the Weasley twins had the idea, not a bad one after all, to say loudly and clearly that Edward was so small that it was easier for him to hide. He sat up stupidly and was the target of all the teams' spells. He narrowly escaped elimination but promised to pay Fred and George back for their little joke. A few minutes later, there were only three teams...

He grinned with a rather sadistic air when he set up the next scene: a blizzard. He heard somebody insult him and could not help but feel satisfied. It was really exhilarating to do that, a real pleasure! Another team was eliminated by the end of time: there was only Harry's team, sans Neville and Susan, and Hermione's team, which had lost Zacharias Smith- ironically, that had been rather good for them. For now, it was Harry who was leading despite losing two teammates.

Edward looked at his watch: curfew was not long away. It was time to eliminate the survivors, starting with Hermione's team. He appeared just before the group and eliminated Ron who had placed himself (very bravely but uselessly) before the two girls. Then he turned to Luna, a bit sorry for her when she suddenly exclaimed, staring behind him:

"Oh, a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Foolishly, he turned and was hit by two spells, one each from Luna and Hermione. The Room's enchantments deactivated and Edward found himself lying on the ground, a little shocked at what had just happened. Everyone stood at a distance, fearing his reaction, but this one surprised them all: the boy laughed cheerfully, unable to stop and then he stood up and addressed the others:

"Lesson No. 1, the most important: anyone can be fooled by their own tricks! I'm proof!" Then, turning to Luna he said: "Anyway, congratulations, you have won my eternal respect."

The girl answered very nonchalantly.

"Thank you, I will take good care of it."

The session was finished but all were talking animatedly. Gradually, everyone left the room, chatting animatedly on the latest class. Harry stayed a little behind with the Asian Ravenclaw, Cho, apparently wanting to talk to her. The boy sighed and let them head to class, closing the door behind him.

Overall, Edward felt he had had a great evening and therefore he joined Luna. As they returned to their common room, he asked, out of curiosity, what a Blibbering Humdinger was. She said it was an insect that liked to go invisible to distract people. Sometimes the young alchemist wondered if the girl actually believed in what she was saying. But he did not care. This made it even more interesting world.

He went to bed with a satisfied air, wondering what ... what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

One thing was certain, he had not expected that, he thought the next day when Hermione told him that Harry and the Weasley siblings had had to leave urgently: apparently Mr. Weasley had been assaulted by a huge snake. Unfortunately, the girl did not know any more: she just knew Harry had "seen" the attack with one of his visions and that he had been able to warn Dumbledore in time to save the unfortunate Mr. Weasley. However, it meant that Harry and the others had to leave Hogwarts quickly to prevent Umbridge from noticing and keeping him behind. So, Hermione informed him, the others had all left a little early for vacation; the two of them would join them tomorrow.

Edward had displayed such a face that the young Gryffindor had asked him what was wrong and the young dimensional traveler had simply replied that he had not expected to be invited to celebrate Christmas with them . He had just thought he was going to have to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays. At that moment, the girl called him an idiot while swinging her bag (filled with heavy work) into his face: she could not believe that he thought they were going to leave him alone at the castle during one of the best holidays of the year. But she had remembered that the young boy was an amnesiac and therefore certainly could not recall something like this: she felt sad for him because it was an important holiday that should be spent surrounded by a loving family. So she decided to make Edward's first Christmas that he could remember happen in the best possible way!

* * *

Yet when they arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, the atmosphere was rather stagnant, especially concerning Harry. The latter had not had a simple vision where he was present at the distance- instead he had experienced the event from inside the snake, as if it were he who had attacked Mr. Weasley. Edward had given him a deadpan look and informed him that if magic could allow someone to be both in bed and crawling on the ground as a snake, then they would know. That argument had not really taken off, and it took a little sour intervention from Ginny to remind Harry what it really meant to be possessed.

Once the Boy-Who-Lived had gone beyond his little depressive episode, the rest of the group decided to question Harry in more detail. The young wizard only remembered that his vision had started in much the same way as his many dreams about the closed door and that he had found himself in the same corridor but in the form of a snake. Edward seemed pleased when he heard this and immediately asked Mr. Weasley: Did Harry remember, when he met in Dumbledore's office, where Mr. Weasley might have been found? Unfortunately, this had not been mentioned and the trail seemed to stop there. Fortunately, Harry suddenly remembered one of the portraits in the hall in question and he even remembered the name: Everard. As a result, all the heads had turned to Hermione, who was trying to remember where she had seen the name ... She ended up finding it rather quickly: Everard had been Minister of Magic from 1819 to 1865, which meant that he certainly had a portrait in the Ministry.

Now, it was a question of finding the exact place since the seat of the British wizarding government was rather large. Edward asked for details about the corridor, but Harry just remembered a corridor with just a door and... The two boys exclaimed, exactly at the same time: "The Department of Mysteries!"

All the others looked at them with wide eyes and they had to explain that they had seen the door at the convocation for Harry's hearing. After that, their assumptions continued well: after all, no one knew what was in this section of the ministry, but all thought it was an ideal place to hide a weapon. Unfortunately, no one could guess what it was, although Edward had raised the information hypothesis since knowledge was power. He had to be careful not to show that he already had an idea of the nature of what the Order of the Phoenix was keeping from them, because that would bring up awkward questions about the way in which he had obtained his information. He figured that saying he had gotten it due to alchemy wouldn't go over well.

* * *

A few days later, Christmas had arrived and Edward had been able to celebrate it for the first time in his life. He had been surprised not to have been forgotten and he had begun to unpack the few gifts he had received: the first gift came from Mrs. Weasley and it was (apparently like the ones all her children including adoptees like Harry and him received) a sweater. His was a beautiful royal blue like the Ravenclaw house colors- not his favorite color but it was the intention that counted. The second gift was from Fred and George who had fun making a figurine of him that shouted some of his funnier phrases like "WHO'S SO SMALL THAT YOU NEED A MICROSCOPE TO DISTINGUISH HIM FROM A MICROBE?! Edward made a solemn resolution to give both of them a knuckle sandwich once the Christmas break was over. Harry gave him a photo album whose first pages were already filled with images of him with the group. Hermione gave hime a book on Dueling magic, one of his weak points ... Luna's gift was a rag doll to hang on his bed that would help with removing Wrackspurts. Edward didn't know what to think of the Wrackspurts part but it was a cute doll with a big smile that made him feel better just looking at it.

He did not have time to linger to contemplate his gifts. Already, Hermione and Ginny arrived in his room by warmly thanking him for their gifts: pairs of earrings. Ron looked at his own present with a mixture of skepticism and delight: to have a real knife like this one was not bad but Ed's dubious-at-best artistic taste, evidenced by the Gothic decorations... Harry's dagger was a in the same style and was a much more effective (and potentially fatal) weapon than the small Sirius knife offered last year. The two young wizards would have to keep their gifts out of sight of Mrs. Weasley, who would not fail to panic at such potentially dangerous presents.

Using his alchemy, Edward had used various objects he found in the attic as basic materials: he had used the quartz of the sand found in a box and the silver of picture frames to make jewelry similar to the earrings that he offered to Winry to spare himself from her fury when he needed automail repairs. It had been equally simple for Ron and Harry's gifts; iron blades were a speciality. Transmutations were generally more durable than transformations made via Transfiguration, for which much more magic power had to be used to make them permanent.

Hermione had been particularly delighted with her present and had been pleased to see that at least one boy could see at first glance that she was a girl. Ron frowned at that remark and took Edward aside and asked if he thought Hermione was still angry with his remarks fourth year. Edward, who had figured out only a few months ago that he was in love with Winry, was not of a very much help and ended up fleeing the conversation.

* * *

A few hours later, Edward found himself accompanying the Weasley siblings to St. Mungo's to visit their father. When he came in, he could not help looking around at the various sorcerers waiting to be treated. Most of them were suffering the consequences of vicious spells sent over the Christmas turkey: peace and harmony did not prevail in all families... When they arrived at Mr. Weasley's room, Edward felt that he was hiding something. Poor man really was not a good liar and he seemed as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair shop...

He handed him one of the sets of pens he had bought during the summer, before he learned that wizards traditionally used only impractical and imprecise quills... The Muggle fan appreciated the gift but was quickly interrupted by his wife who had found her husband's wound. Apparently, discovering that her husband had attempted to be sewed had not delighted Molly, even if Edward had tried to defend the use of stitches: after all, he himself had to undergo a certain amount during his stays in the hospital, but the witch was too furious to hear it, which could be better for the young alchemist, the mention of the staples could have gone over poorly.

He followed the rest of the group and met Gilderoy Lockhart, ranked in the category of not very interesting, to ignore. He passed quickly to the other patients: a lady who looked like a chimera, which earned her a great deal of compassion from Edward. He then passed the man named Bode, who uttered strange noises resembling steam escaping from a teapot. When the young alchemist approached him, he seemed to be agitated like a madman, prompting the young boy to retreat very hastily to the point where he hit the night table and knocked the potted plant placed there over. Swearing, the boy quickly picked up the plant, frowned, convinced that he had seen it somewhere ... and uttered a loud cry when it tried to strangle him. The healers arrived quickly and managed to help him before he went from the red-face to blue-face stage in degrees of strangulation. The plant was a Devil's Snare, which unnerved the teen, who had become somewhat paranoid: The Devil's Snare was a plant taught in the first year, any fool would normally have identified it. This plant had tried to kill him, which meant that it was a premeditated murder: someone wanting his inheritance? Wicked murder? Or...

"Bode." Harry whispered to Ron, "I've heard that name somewhere ..."

"Dad told me about him," replied the redhead. "I think he's an unspeakable, which means he's working for... "

"The Department of Mysteries," Hermione concluded, a frightened look on her face.

The group felt that they had reached their goal: they had just discovered that the Department of Mysteries was the place where the weapon was hidden, and now one of the seriously injured employees was now a victim of an attempted murder… it didn't take a genius to connect the dots.

Meanwhile, Edward was trying to get away carefully from the patient's bed when he, eyes bulging, grabbed his arm violently, muttering words to garbled for him to understand anything but the few words _"Impero, prophétia, Domini Tenabrarum and electum and Mala fides! Who scis! Who scis! Prophetias!"_

Edward's friends tried to tear the teen out of Bode's hands, but the patient showed considerable strength and grabbed the young alchemist as if he wanted to pull his arm off. He seemed to want to continue his divinations: " _Tenebrae, ostium, pueri immolati_!", which reinforced the pallor of the young boy, who had become ill as the grip of the sorcerer became powerful under the influence of terror. Luckily, the healers finally released him and administered to the poor man calming potions, under the somewhat apprehensive glances of the small group.

On the way back, while Moody, Tonks, Lupin and Mrs Weasley accompanied them, the group discussed what had happened, paying attention to fleeting reactions of their companions: those who had reacted when they had asked, innocently, if that was Bode, and when Ron had pretended to remember that he worked in the Department of Mysteries. However, the most interesting reaction they got was when Ginny asked Edward if he understood the words of the patient and he replied, hiding his smile:

"It was Latin, I'd say... I don't remember learning it, but I know he said 'Imperio, prophecy, Dark Lord and chosen, Bad Faith, You-know-who…'"

At that moment, the young boy took a Silencio launched by Moody as discreetly as possible. But the damage was done and Edward had finally been able to reveal some of his information without appearing suspicious, to his delight. The rest of the gang smiled brightly, staring at the members of the Order, who realized that nothing could erase from their minds what had just been revealed. The rest of the journey went on in the utmost silence, although the teenagers continued to display a collective triumphant look.

* * *

When he returned to 12 Grimmauld Square, Edward was summoned to the kitchen, while the others were sent to their rooms. The young boy stood before Dumbledore and a good part of the Order who wanted to ask him exactly what he had heard. The young Alchemist hesitated to lie, but because of the witnesses he could not afford to try to hide the truth. He faithfully repeated the words of the Unspeakable, adding even his own translation. The Order members shared a serious look, and many seemed to be angry with Edward for revealing important information, although they thought he had no idea what he had done. After all, how was he supposed to know that a prophecy was so important? He had only faithfully translated incongruous words in his opinion. Strangely, no one seemed to be able to tell he was acting. Finally, he assumed a more serious air and, addressing himself in particular to the director, he informed him in a serious tone that 'a secret could not be placed before a human being without his being tempted to solve it', then, after these words, he took his leave to join his friends. He doubted that the Order would begin to reveal information to Harry, but you never know...

Upon arriving in the room, he was given a hero's welcome, as if he had discovered a revolutionary new scientific principle- which was somewhat the case for them. For the first time, they had valuable information. Edward had to submit to a new interrogation and then they all began to reflect on the meaning to be given to this famous prophecy: you didn't need to be a genius to guess that it must have to do with Voldemort and the Chosen One. A Chosen One, who, according to the opinion of all, could very well be Harry. He wasn't exactly thrilled about this. Still, everyone was mostly happy with the progress they'd made. The problem is that unless they had the contents of the prophecy, they could not really move forward...

* * *

December 31st

In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were discussing recent events, particularly those of St. Mungo's.

"I finally succeeded in moving Bode and getting him out of there," murmured the venerable wizard, his eyes staring into the hearth of the fireplace. All the staff seemed rather of the opinion that it was an accident, but... "As dear Augusta is a member of the hospital's board of directors and one of the most important contributors to the institution, I was able to get the necessary permissions to move him."

"He could talk?" asked the Potions Master.

"Always in Latin: contact with prophecy has deactivated the enchantment to which he was subjected, so that he can speak freely. I have learned several things... The first is that Lucius Malfoy placed him under the imperius to take Harry Potter's prophecy. "

"That confirms my information," Snape said with a hint of reproach in his voice.

"I never doubted it, Severus. The second thing is that he recently worked on a prophecy that seems to have manifested quite particular way... He revealed words that do not seem to make any sense and he refused to say anymore afterwards."

"Tell me that this prophecy does not also concern the 'savior of the wizarding world,'" the spy snarled, trying to hide his deep discomfort.

"I would say it could concern Voldemort because his date of birth seems to have been evoked," said the Headmaster. "But Harry does not seem to be mentioned anywhere. Unfortunately I could not get any more details from young Elric."

"On that subject," Snape began, resignedly, "the Dark Lord learned that he skipped his classes and seems to be paying more attention to the boy. He ordered the Malfoy family to redeem itself from Lucius' failure with Bode by asking Draco to give him information about the boy."

"That's very unfortunate," muttered Albus Dumbledore regretfully.

"If only this young fool had maintained a low profile instead of insisting on passing his exams one after another," the professor raged, furious.

"You can not ask a star to shine any less bright than it should," said the old wizard philosophically.

"Perhaps... but in the meantime, Elric will be watched very closely by Draco and Lucius has already begun to teach the darkest arts to his son- perhaps even legilimency. This besides the many other ways to get the truth from a person."

"Indeed. This is why it might be good that Mr. Elric get an overview of Legilimency with you, with Mr. Potter when you teach him Occlumency," said Dumbledore in a serious tone.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Snape, furiously, "There's no way that I could teach the Occlumency to Potter's son!"

"And to Lily's son, Severus ..." the headmaster added, in a serious tone.

"It's not that easy, Dumbledore! Occlumency is a discipline that demands concentration, rigor, assiduity and detachment, qualities that Potter is totally lacking; a neutral and impartial instructor, and I know myself: I could never adopt such behavior towards this boy!"

"And yet, it will be necessary, Severus: the accident with Bode unfortunately taught him that a prophecy is involved, and now that Voldemort knows that Harry is connected to him by his mind, it will become easier to infiltrate his thoughts..."

"Assuming he has any…" growled the Potions Master contemptuously.

"Severus ..." Dumbledore sighed before continuing: "Perhaps Edward's presence in your sessions will ease the tension between you two. In the case of Mr. Elric, the legilimency sessions will have the official goal of curing his amnesia."

"I see ... You want me to take advantage of these lessons so I can investigate this boy's past."

"Edward Elric remains an enigma for as long as we have known him and it would be a good idea to find out more about him, even if he appears not to be on Voldemort's side. To know how he thinks, what he wants."

"That's understandable, but you're a more gifted with legilimency than I am."

"If I can not teach Harry, then I can not have lessons with Edward. And I think you underestimate yourself, Severus, after several sessions, I have no doubt that you will come to discover more about this young man..."

"I think you underestimate Elric. This boy may be an amnesiac, but I feel he is perfectly able to protect his thoughts. He's a damn genius, who works hard. I would not be surprised if he can hide his thoughts."

"If that's the case, maybe he can teach Harry, and in any case, we're winners."

"If you say so..."

* * *

At the same time, Edward was lying on his bed, not knowing that they were talking about him. He thought bitterly about how he would like to be in Amestris, with his brother. The last few months had been so busy that he sometimes had trouble giving time to nostalgia and regret ... But then it was the holidays, he had no more work, he had no more time to take a walk in the Forbidden Forest, and so, now he had time to think about his situation. And today he felt even more alone because it was his birthday. Today, he was seventeen years old (or one hundred and two years old, depending on how you look at it.)

It was the second time that he was celebrating his birthday alone: the last time was last year, when he was separated from Al in the north. north. But at that time, since he had been half delirious because of his wound, he had not even noticed that he had passed the sixteen-year mark…

Well, technically, it was hard to think that he was seventeen: the Promised Day had been on April 3 and he had arrived in this world on July 3, which meant that he had jumped three months... and eighty years. All this shifting made him a little strange, especially since no one knew his true age and all felt that he was between fourteen and seventeen years old, and he was in a classroom where the students were at least two years younger than him. Besides, he could not say that today was his birthday and had to keep it secret, which meant today was frankly not a good day and that he was going to spend it moping. He raised his hand to the ceiling, as if trying to catch something out of his reach, before muttering "Al ..."

* * *

Original author's note:

Eventually, Edward was going to be beaten and by Luna. I really like Luna as a character, I can not help it, she's great.

I decided (arbitrarily) to place Edward's date of birth on December 31, 1899. In any case, the author did not reveal very specific information about Ed's birthday, except for his year of birth, preferring to leave a lot of latitude to create her characters. So now, we can invent minor information like that…

Regarding the Latin, it was translated thanks to an online translation site, so my translation may not be the most accurate... Good luck to those who want to translate the rest of the Bode's words- which, yes, are important… nyah nyah nyah.

...

Otherwise, Dumbledore and Snape plot (as usual)...

* * *

Translator's notes: nothing really. I haven't looked up what the Latin says, so I can't help you there.


	15. Chapter 15

Hey everybody! *dodges tomatoes* I said on the preview for ch. 14 that I would return by June, and look, I'm back earlier than expected! I finished this chapter and chapter 16 in a fit of inspiration (read: sleep deprivation). Chapter 16 will be posted by July or when I finish ch. 17, whichever happens first. Also, let me take this moment to shill _JoJo's Bizarre Adventure_ , both the manga and the anime. It's a great read or watch, with awesome and unique art and excellent characters. Check it out!

I don't own _Fullmetal Alchemist_ , _Harry Potter_ , or the original fic by mel72000

* * *

Chapter 15: occultus memoriae

Edward was quietly sitting in Harry's room at 12 Grimmauld Square, watching the latter and Ron playing chess while he sat reading. He himself had never been very good at this strategy game, although Colonel Mustang insisted on trying to teach him the rules. Although he had a prodigious intelligence, the young boy had simply never clung to chess, unlike his superior, and he had not appreciated the colonel's teasing- those sessions had always had a very predictable outcome: Mustang winning with a smirk and a mocking remark and Ed having to leave HQ to avoid breaking things. Nevertheless, although he would never admit it, he had appreciated the attention from the colonel when he had explained to him one day that the strategies studied in this game could save his life. But the young State Alchemist had always preferred to build his plans as events unfolded, in a moment of improvisation, rather than plan all his actions on the long term, like the colonel...

He watched Harry try to convince a knight to beat one of Ron's pawns when Mrs. Weasley entered the room to tell him and the Boy Who Lived that Professor Snape wanted to see them. Harry looked like he had been struck by lightning while Edward was satisfied with a neutral expression because Snape seemed very much like his former superior in character: they were both sarcastic, both knew where the weak point of others was and did not hesitate to hit them, both were planners, and both knew how to conceal their true personalities. It was certain that the two men would have come to an understanding even if one was a charmer and the other was anxious to repel all forms of affection. As for himself... if he had managed to appreciate his bastard colonel, he could at least tolerate Snape.

They entered the kitchen where Snape and Sirius were waiting for them. Edward grimaced: putting these two together in the same room was like mixing nitroglycerin and fire: it was not a good idea under any pretext. So they sat down on the chairs and waited to be told why they were here. After five minutes, the young alchemist understood that Harry was going to learn occlumency while he himself was there for legilimency sessions, apparently, to "help" him to regain his memory.

He would have preferred it to be the opposite: with legilimency, Harry could perhaps learn more about his prophecy and he himself wanted to keep his own secrets ... But he couldn't ask that he learn more about how to hide his thoughts ... At least, that would be a new challenge. Harry seemed to have hit rock bottom and Edward understood: no one wanted someone who hated them to have the opportunity to know their thoughts... especially a teenager! What was Dumbledore thinking, doing this? He was certainly not an expert in magic, nor in human nature, but even he understood that this kind of learning required confidence and familiarity, which was certainly not the case with both of them! Did the old headmaster want the two sworn enemies to make peace? Had he forgotten how deep the roots of hatred were? Or did he have no one else at hand to teach this? Dumbledore knew legilimency, but he did not want his student to know too much, no doubt.

* * *

The next day was the day everyone returned to Hogwarts. Everyone had climbed on the Knight Bus. Ed had been somewhat nervous about this, as he had had a bad feeling, but he had wanted to see what would happen. That had been a mistake. In general, Edward did not have a great love for wizardry. This ride had showed him that he was right: this bus was crazy and the drivers had gotten their driver's licenses from a cereal box, assuming they even had one! This reminded him of Hawkeye's driving when they had been chasing Gluttony! He got out of the bus, and swore that he would never ride a vehicle that didn't adhere to Muggle driving laws, thank you very much! The return to the castle went very well, in spite of this, and he was glad to be back where he could see Ravenclaw tower, the library and Luna. He had given her a small cage, very artistic (well, according to his tastes), so that she could keep the animals she would find. She had quickly taken to it and had amused herself by painting it in the colors of the rainbow, saying that Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks were attracted to bright colors.

Monday went very well, even if having to see Umbridge's face pissed him off. He couldn't stand her for very long.

But soon, the first Occlumency/Legilimency session arrived and the two boys went there dragging their feet while taking care to arrive on time- a delicate balance.

Professor Snape seemed to be about as happy as Harry was to be here, which meant everything. He began by making a little speech on the definition of the two subjects studied and on the fact that Voldemort had a good command of legilimency, to the point of knowing when he was being lied to. Edward thought it might be very useful ... although ... no, maybe not: he probably wouldn't like to hear what people think about him. The Potions Master then continued his little speech on the need to learn occlumency while Harry was trying to snatch bits of information about Voldemort while trying to remain polite. Unfortunately, the professor remained very laconic in his answers. Harry then asked a question that intrigued him since he had learned that Edward was going to be with him:

"Why is Edward attending these classes, sir?"

"Professor Dumbledore thinks it desirable that Mr. Elric find his memory as soon as possible. The legilimency will be used to find his lost memories," explained the professor, addressing the teen more specifically.

"What if I don't want to?" Edward inquired curiously.

"You don't want to know your own story, Elric?" Snape asked in a mocking and falsely incredulous tone, adding, "Most amnesiacs want to get their memories back. Why don't you? Do you have something to hide?"

"Let's just say that after seeing the form of my boggart and knowing the reaction I have to Dementors, I wonder if it's really worth it," replied the young Alchemist.

"Certainly, but having such information missing from your brain… It must certainly grind on your Ravenclaw sensibilities. ...Why don't we start, then, Mr. Potter?"

While Harry was experiencing the unpleasant experience of having Snape in his head for the first, Edward was wondering what might happen: Would the Truth act to prevent Snape from seeing his memories? That would be highly suspect, after all. Snape would certainly think he had something to hide ... How could he change his thoughts so he would not notice anything? Before, his amnesia could explain the void, but not now since he had just spent six months in this world.

What he had to do was to understand how the mind worked in less than five minutes ... But a lifetime would not be enough. He was going to have to rely on his knowledge in alchemy for that. But on this side he had an advantage: his human transmutation, his quest for the philosopher's stone, his researches and his passage through the Gate had prepared him for this, more than anyone else in the world.

The mind was a principle that made the bond between the soul and the body. The soul was energy, the source of life, while the body was the material envelope. The mind was what allowed the soul to express itself in the body through the medium of thought, the intelligence of emotions, to such an extent that there was a tendency to confuse the soul and the psyche. It was something hard to believe for a scientist, but the young alchemist had been able to experience this hypothesis himself- only now he had to deceive the Legilimens... But how?

But now it was his turn, and Snape muttered " _Legilimens"_ before Ed could prepare himself.

Not wanting to hide his deepest memories, knowing that if he did this they would become much more present and therefore easy to see, he decided instead to pursue his ideas on the question of the soul and the mind, in good Ravenclaw fashion, knowing that this was probably the best way to throw the teacher off.

 _If the soul and the mind are two different things, then what is a ghost? Does it hold the mind or the soul? Since they are no longer alive and the soul is the energy of life itself, we can deduce that a ghost is not a soul, in full or not ... But the mind and the soul are so intertwined that the soul might have left its mark on the mind- could that then be the ghost? I'll have to ask the Grey Lady, assuming that she does not flee me like the others._

"Is your brain always like that, Elric, or is it a Ravenclaw characteristic that you must have your brains on for every occasion?"

"I would say it's something that happens when someone intends to read your thoughts, sir. It tends to make me think." Edward replied half-maliciously and half-heartily.

"I see... A pity that Mr. Potter does not have your ability to concentrate, even atypical as it is..." Snape mocked with a grin.

After that, the two boys were sent back to their common rooms. Knowing that they still had a good quarter of an hour before the curfew, they discussed the legilimency sessions together.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, still remembering Snape's contemptuous barbs.

"Well... let's say that when he talked about legilimency, I tried to formulate a theory about how the soul and the mind in ghosts..." Ed began, pausing at Harry's air that seemed out of character for the teen.

"You mean you did not see a lot of images coming out of your head, some pretty humiliating memories?" Harry muttered, glancing at his friend.

"Um, no, I guess I was too focused..." Edward said, shrugging.

"Me, the only thing he says to me is to empty my mind of thoughts and concentrate..." Harry grumbled, "It's useless."

"You could try to focus, not on not thinking about anything, but on something insignificant," suggested Edward, who himself was looking for a way to conceal his thoughts without seeming to bear any ill will.

"Up to you," replied the young alchemist. "Certainly not on your life, anyway- something you know by heart: scientific theorems, lists of foreign words, spells..."

"And how should I make this vacuum in my head before sleeping?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived.

"No idea," his friend replied. "Just think about your OWLS, at least that'd please Hermione. Don't think about Voldemort or his plans. Things that are disconnected from your emotions, maybe..."

The two young wizards separated and a few minutes later Edward was lying on his bed, thinking about how he was going to deceive Snape's legilimency. Dumbledore and his Order would no longer distrust him if he stubbornly concealed his thoughts and thought of theories. So he had to find another method, drawing inspiration from what Harry had revealed to him about his experience. Obviously, he saw a series of images without chronological order, without logic between them, concerning memories linked to emotions. It was necessary for Snape to see the same thing with him, while at the same time preventing him from examining his memories in detail. He had to pass his memories in accelerated mode, so that they were blurred to the point of imprecision, and so that the legilimens couldn't find compromising details. He was going to have to make up a sequence of images that he knew by heart and that he could show very quickly.

This led to the second problem: the selection of memories. They had to be the least revealing possible. Fortunately, the architectures were not too different from one world to another, the climates and landscapes were similar, even if the geography was totally different. He would just have to be careful that there was no writing since their languages were different.

He had already eliminated all the memories in which alchemy was concerned, which, unfortunately constituted a great majority of his life. He also had to avoid those where his brother appeared in the armor and those when his right arm was automail since he had gotten his arm back, which was going to be more than complicated. It was also necessary that this sequence should follow a path and that it corresponded, in large part, with the assumptions of Dumbledore and his Order, namely that it was a violent past.

Then he would have to dissect his memories to verify that nothing would betray him and finally, he would have to know this selection of memories by heart and make it scroll as fast as possible.

A week would not be enough for this titanic work and this time, the Truth would not help. Edward groaned, taking his head in his hands. Damn, was he screwed.

But he remembered that he was supposed to be amnesic, which meant that those infamous memories would be hard to get to and Snape thought it would take awhile to find them. This gave him a little respite to prepare and train.

So he could begin to train with memories of this world and experience it, while beginning to select his memories of Amestris. This was going to be a real challenge, but he had already done the impossible.

* * *

The next day, Edward learned of the escape of ten Death Eaters from Azkaban. News more than bad, especially when he saw the faces of some of the psychopaths. The look of one of the Death Eaters reminded him particularly of Kimblee's sinister memory. Contempt and violence emanated from each of them, arrogant as to their own ideology.

There were several consequences to this: the first was Education Decree No. 26, which prohibited professors from speaking of anything other than their subject. Edward would have liked to say that it was worth it for her and her little putrid and ideological speeches about creatures, but he did not need a new mark on his new right arm, thank you. The second consequence was the renewed seriousness in the support classes: the pupils did not come there to amuse themselves but to train themselves seriously. Edward's exercises became more and more complicated and realistic and everyone, including Neville, made amazing progress. More and more members managed to brush him, to touch him in some cases and finally Edward had the feeling of actually practicing. He therefore multiplied the vicious and unscrupulous maneuvers and it worked.

A week after the escape, Snape was trying again to pierce his thoughts. It was time for Edward to see if his efforts had paid off. He passed the first little suite of memories he'd carefully created during the week: one afternoon near the lake with the Gryffindor trio, his detention with Umbridge where she made him write lines on his hand, Harry's trial where he testified, his first act of magic where he lifted the furniture of the library, a particular lesson he'd given to Harry and Dudley in physics. He then looked up at Snape, who seemed a little more satisfied than at the last session now that he had real memories. He cast Legilimens a second time and Edward, a little tense, presented the second "slideshow" of memories. This one was more risky: a discussion with Luna about Wrackspurts, doing exercises in Little Whinging Park and with Harry joining him, meeting with Nicolas Flamel, the boggart in the living room, which he superposed for a second with the original memory of Amestris, that of his failed human transmutation. Then he suddenly stopped the memories and pretended to fall on his knees, holding his head and trembling with all his limbs, as though he were traumatized. Strangely, he had no trouble playing this, for even today, it made him want to vomit.

"Let's go on," Snape whispered, intrigued by what he had just seen.

"Stop, can't you see he can't do it?!" Harry exclaimed, trying to help.

"Since you seem so eager to participate, Potter, let's move on to you." Snape said, turning his attention to his favorite scapegoat.

After casting his spell several times, Professor Snape seemed rather surprised by Harry's method of defense, which was constantly reciting his broom handbook, as he had done during Aunt Marge's visit. It worked during the first three attempts of the teacher but the last pulverized Harry's defense, focusing itself on the woman and on the insults on the boy's family.

The professor dropped a sarcastic comment at the Boy-Who-Lived, who took it very badly and left the room, accompanied by Edward who had no intention of staying here any longer. Harry was completely discouraged by the session and Edward thought that this learning of the Occlumency was going to end badly sooner or later, as the teacher and the student did not get along well. He wondered what could have been worth his friend's fury, and such bitterness on Snape's part. It was certainly very deep. One day he would have to ask...

But the priority at the moment was to keep Harry from giving up and getting discouraged by Snape's remarks.

"It was not that bad," said Edward.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry asked fiercely. "It was a disaster."

"Snape had to do it more than three times to get through your defenses," Edward said in a neutral tone. "Coming from him, you can see this as a very good progress. If it is, his insult was his way of cracking and getting excited because you succeeded."

"It's quite possible. Do you intend to let him win, to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he has succeeded?"

"It's funny you say that, you get upset when you're told you're short," protested Harry, who thought it was sort of a case of pot calling the kettle black.

"I am not small!" Edward scolded in a threatening tone. "But, I sometimes keep my calm... then counter-attack even harder. The main thing is never to give up."

"So what should I concentrate on?" Harry asked.

"Come on, you need something insipid, emotionless, something that can be learned by heart and that's very boring ..." Edward suggested with a little glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I think I have an idea..." Harry smiled.

An hour later, in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione took gathered up the courage to speak to her best friend.

"Harry, usually I would be the first to congratulate you on your assiduity in reading a book and I would encourage you, but why, in Merlin's name, would you read Slinkhard's book?!"

* * *

Three weeks later, Edward was lying on his bed, knowing that tomorrow he would finally reveal more of his past. The last few weeks had made him progress in his project of defending his thoughts to the point that he had taken advantage of his mental organization to create several series of memories in order to be able to deceive Snape more effectively: the spy was very intelligent and he would have noticed if he saw a single memory sequence repeating itself. So, he had done four or five of which he interchanged the images, added others and the more he did, the easier it became. Now he had finally been able to finish the slide show which would serve to "reveal" his past, having carefully sorted each of his memories, eliminating those which could reveal annoying clues.

He had taken the image of the Gate, opened, as if to show that some of his memories came back to him. Then he chose the very blurred image of his father leaving, then the image of his mother fainted on the floor with blood. He had also selected an image of his brother before the transmutation. An episode of his training on the island where he and Alphonse were fighting against Mason and another where they lay completely hungry to the point of eating ants.

A vision of the war he had drawn from his time before going through the Portal of Truth. He had taken the image of his leg cut short by human transmutation and that of the transmuted thing and a furtive view of the operating room of the Rockbells, without showing the faces. A short time at the training grounds with Mustang's team, when this bastard had insisted that he bond with them. Not a bad idea, in theory, but the training had humiliated him because he was not really the size of an average man and the young alchemist was certain that this was the goal of the colonel.

A phrase, without a picture: "You are a human weapon"- an expression at once sufficiently vague and explicit enough that anyone could interpret in their own way. A moment when he was trying to escape from Scar in the street during his first meeting with him. The moment he had looked at Riza's pistol before returning it. An image of him pierced by the steel bar in the northern mines and finally the fire in the forest outside of Central. A soundtrack of howls, shots, blows…

He had not been able to add visual memories of the Promised Day: it had been such a debauch of alchemy that it was impossible to show a single moment. He had only kept the noise and the feeling of pain. Overall, he was quite pleased with his work, which had taken him not nearly a month especially since now he could show this sequence of memories very quickly. He was ready for his Occlumency session.

Professor Snape had just plunged into Elric's mind: he had the impression that he had finally reached his goal. His impression was reinforced when he found himself in front of a dark and monumental door that seemed to open, no doubt a symbol of lost memories...

He was then overwhelmed by a flood of images that rose very quickly, one after the other, succeeding one another without having time to assimilate them. Most of the time, it was more of a rush of sensations and emotion, very strong and very lively, violent, without calm nor respite. The teacher and the student found themselves kneeling on the floor of the teacher's office, panting, struggling to catch their breath and the thread of their own thoughts. Edward trembled violently, tears streaming from his eyes, unable to stop himself. Harry watched them, frozen, not knowing what to do or if he should seek help.

But the teacher got up and sent them out as he hurried to his pensieve.

Harry was supporting Edward, wondering if he would have to take him to the infirmary. But his friend seemed to get better as he walked, at least, enough to ask questions:

"Say, what's that basin on Snape's desk?" He seemed rather in a hurry... "

"That's Dumbledore's pensieve, you store memories in it and use it to watch them more carefully."

 _"Shit."_ Edward thought, taking his leave quickly.

* * *

Meanwhile, Snape walked to Dumbledore's office as quickly as possible, bringing with him the Pensieve. The headmaster was certainly going to be very interested in Elric's new memories. Professor Dumbledore had full confidence in the Potion professor, and it was together that the two men plunged into the thoughts of the Legilimens, pausing certain memories of the young boy to examine them and see the details.

They paid no attention to the door as a symbol and bent over the first memory: a tall man, with fair hair and golden eyes, who was leaving. No doubt Edward's father, given the resemblance. A child of barely a year was standing next to a two or three year old Edward while a woman was kneeling beside them. Edward Elric had a family: a father, a mother and a little brother but probably for a very short time: the father seemed to have abandoned them indefinitely, if he believed the tears on the face of the woman.

The second memory was even more tragic: the same woman, lying on the ground, looking worse. May be a serious and probably lethal illness ... They could see drops of blood on the floor very well.

The third scene was that of Edward and his brother, no doubt. They were older: seven or eight, no more. But the worst part was that they were fighting violently against a masked and muscular adult in a forest, alone, nobody helped them. A desolate vision.

Another recollection took place in a forest that seemed to be the same place as before: the two very thin children, with bruises everywhere, were lying in a foliage tent. They looked exhausted and very thin, unable to move. Little Edward picked ants off the ground and ate them, causing the potions master to sneer in disgust and Dumbledore to pity him. This unhappy boy seemed to have been ill-treated, hungry, like his brother. How could this be inflicted on someone so young?

A new image appeared: violent, bloody. A ten-year-old Edward was holding his left leg, or rather, what was left of it: it had been cut off and blood flowed from the stump. The director immediately stopped the course of the memory and tried to examine the surroundings but darkness had filled the room, nothing could be seen. The pair could not see the monster who had done this, or what had happened. Nor did he see Edward's younger brother. And he feared the worst of his fate.

A monstrous thing, consistent with Molly and Remus' descriptions appeared next, for a second. A vaguely human form, hardly alive, a real horror. How such a thing could have been created? Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and saw chalked shapes on the floor. He thought he understood: was it possible that these children were the sacrificial victims for a ritual of black magic or necromancy?

A less violent image ensued: Edward lying in a hospital bed, in a room too fuzzy to recognize.

The following recollection was more interesting: a young Edward, eleven or twelve years old, with an angry air, climbing the rope while at the top of the platform men in military pants and swimsuits awaited him, one of whom seemed quite mocking while the others seemed to encourage him. This confirmed his hypothesis: the young Edward seemed to have been part of an army and underwent a training as a soldier.

It was not an image but a phrase that constituted the memory after: You are a human weapon. Terrible and terrifying words for a child.

Then there was a short memory during which the young Edward, who was now almost as old as his current apparent age, was trying to escape from an assailant: a muscular man, with a bronzed complexion and red eyes pursuing him.

Then there was a vision of an Edward who was looking at a pistol placed on his gloved hand with a thoughtful air: his official weapon? Or did he want to commit suicide? Edward did not seem like the type...

The memory afterwards horrified the two wizards, even Professor Snape: Edward, impaled by a piece of iron through his stomach. A wound like that should have killed him, especially if he did not know how to use his magic yet ... Even a wizard would have had trouble getting by and needed healing knowledge. And yet the boy had survived. Only the tears of phoenix could have acted quickly enough to prevent him from dying. Had that been the case?

After the brief vision of a fire, they heard noises of gunfire, shouting, explosions...

The two wizards found themselves again in the director's office, still shaking from Edward's memories and rather pale.

"That was rather instructive ..." Snape said in a hoarse voice.

"Indeed ... Poor child"

"Someone who has experienced this kind of thing is not a child. Even your Boy-Who-Lived has not suffered this."

"The goal here is not to compare, Severus, but to understand this young boy."

"If I had to summarize his story, I would personally say that he lost his parents very early, that he lived by himself with his brother, and then was captured and used as a sacrificial ingredient in a dark art ritual, Or rather, given the results, a ritual of necromancy. This certainly killed the practitioners and the other boy as they disappeared."

"I think the same..."

"During this ritual," said Snape in a grave tone, "something happened to Elric: he lost his leg and something else had to happen, these rituals are the most dangerous: invoking an obscure force is never partaken lightly, even the Dark Lord would be extremely cautious before venturing into it, because we are dealing with death, obscure knowledge and colossal forces very closely. "

"Severus ... Edward seems to have a strange relationship with magic, of the same order as some magical creatures ... He speaks a language unknown even to myself, and the ghosts avoid it, even dear Binns. You have great knowledge of the forces of evil. What do you think happened to him?"

"I have a hypothesis: during this ceremony, an unknown force or being was able to enter this boy, even to merge with him, which could very well have given him great power. Some soldiers noticed it and wanted to use this power and the kid was trained. He suffered serious injuries and I believe that this force has enabled him to survive. Then, there must have been a more serious accident and this boy was transported to Grimmauld Square by the thing. "

"Interesting, we'll have to check that at the next session ..." Dumbledore suggested.

"No way !" Categorically refused the Legilimens. "If there is really a buried force in Elric, whether it is evil or good, I refuse to allow it a chance to escape. It is too dangerous. We do not know what this thing has done. The gunshots, the noises and the screams at the end shows that something has happened, but nothing has transpired from this information: that means that the project had to be top secret, like the Department of Mysteries, but nobody seems to be looking for this boy. He could very well have gotten rid of the witnesses."

"Edward does not seem to be the type to commit a massacre."

"But who's talking to you about Elric?" said Snape, trying to imagine the disaster, "Imagine that this entity took control of his body, if it were to happen again, in a school full of students."

"It is true that Edward is certainly not harmless: since the beginning of the year, he has been crossing the Forbidden Forest broadly and crosswise, without any difficulty, it seems. Before making a decision, I preferred to have your opinion, Séverus, nonetheless, because you have the greatest experience with black magic in this castle. I know that Edward is a certain danger, both for himself and for others, and it would probably be wiser to isolate him. If the Department of Mysteries learned of his peculiarities, they would have fun dissecting him alive to determine what was wrong with him and I want to avoid that. I think he should be brought back to 12 Grimmauld Square, there, we could find if he should be placed under confinement sealings.

"I only made a hypothesis," Snape said, a little worried about being carried away, "it's always possible that I was mistaken. His control over his magic is perfect."

"In any case, the night will bring advice," concluded Dumbledore wearily.

Behind the window, sitting on a small ledge that did not exist half an hour before, Edward had finished listening to the enlightening and informative conversation about him. Discreetly, he reused the alchemy to rearrange the stones in their initial places before returning to the Ravenclaw Tower.

* * *

Original author's note: It must be understood that Dumbledore and Snape are trying to interpret the memories of Edward in the light of what they know. Given Edward's many secrets, it is normal for him to arouse suspicion in these characters and, it must be said, these memories did not really give the impression of a reassuring past. So, I repeat, mistrust is logical: Dumbledore may leave second chances to others but he also has a war to lead and he has the right to be suspicious of Ed. As for Snape, he is a Death Eater and suspicious in nature, moreover, having rubbed elbows with black magic, it is normal that he thinks of this as the first hypothesis concerning the ritual.

In the following chapters you will have the opportunity to see the construction of the relationship between Edward and Snape and especially how our alchemist will analyze the relationship between Harry and Snape. I want to clarify that his thoughts are totally... mine on the issue. Snape has always been a fascinating character and he is one of my favorites. For some, I might have a tendency to defend him too much but I will explain the reasons for it in the end of my next chapters.

* * *

Translator's note: Forgive me if the part about the soul and mind is incorrect, I don't think it is but I could be misremembering my FMA. It doesn't help that the word, esprit, can mean mind or spirit. The part where Harry thinks Ed's remarks about shrugging off insults are a case of pot calling kettle is how I translated the French idiom "l'hôpital que se foutait de la charité." or "c'est l'hôpital qui se moque de la charité", which literally means "the hospital is lacking charity".


	16. Chapter 16

Hey everyone! I'm back, early even! I don't have chapter 17 completely done, but I wanted to celebrate graduating (with honors!) and getting a new laptop. Expect chapter 17 in August or when I finish chapter 18, whichever comes first.

I don't own _Harry Potter_ , _Fullmetal Alchemist_ , or the original fic by mel72000.

* * *

Chapter 16: Miserere Nobis

Edward sat in an alcove near the Ravenclaw common room. He had not had the courage to get in, because he felt depressed: Dumbledore and Snape apparently thought he had been the victim of a magical ritual and possessed by an evil entity. They would certainly try to learn more, which could prove dangerous for his cover which could even confirm their suspicions. He did not know what to do. Should he run away so he would not have to answer Dumbledore's questions? It was necessary that he invent a story by pretending to have found the memory, knowing that if they discovered that he was lying the situation, to get worse ? Why should he always fall into situations like that? Why had the Truth put him in this mess?

"I've never seen so many Wrackspurts around you."

"Luna ... I'm sorry, it's just that I'm a little confused."

"Of course, otherwise the Wrackspurts wouldn't be there," Luna said with a gentle smile before asking, a hair more seriously, "Why are you confused?"

"Dumbledore and Snape, they're convinced that I'm possessed by something that will kill everyone if it wakes up," Edward said.

"Why do they think that?" asked the young Ravenclaw.

"It's complicated to explain. Let's say some of my memories left him to think and he jumped to the first conclusion," the boy said fatalistically.

"You do not seem to be possessed," Luna said calmly and quietly.

"Go tell them that!" growled the young alchemist.

"Why would not you tell them by yourself?" Luna asked curiously while playing with the corks of her necklace that was getting longer and longer over the course of the year.

"I spied on their conversation," he replied without saying more.

"Um, so why do you think you're possessed?" Luna asked him seriously.

"I have an amnesia, I have a special way of using magic, my memories are weird and, ah, yes, the ghosts are scared when I approach," Edward said ironically.

"Amnesia sometimes happens when a nargle enters your head, but it is too brief and it often happens under the mistletoe: people do not know what to say, they forget their words and stammer..."

"It's not a nargle, Luna," said Edward seriously, laughing. Even though the situation was tricky, Luna's descriptions of the symptoms of someone in love found under the mistletoe was more than faithful to the reality and quite hilarious!

"If you say so," Luna conceded. "The special way of using magic... maybe you do not understand magic like all wizards. I think it's good: it's better that you are different, it makes this world more interesting, don't you think?"

"You're incredible, Luna..." Edward smiled. "And for the rest?"

"With the memories, I do not know, I have not seen them," said the young Ravenclaw, raising her eyebrows. "Well, I think you alone can really know what that says about you. As for the ghosts, have you ever asked one of them why they're avoiding you?"

"Um, no ..." Edward replied feeling stupid.

"In that case we can ask!" Luna exclaimed in a joyful tone.

* * *

Then, without waiting for his answer, she took his hand and started running down the hallway, down a spiral staircase, not forgetting to jump the trap, and then ran into the corridor. Hearing a sinister meow, she took a turn at right angles and ran into a wall covered with a tapestry which turned out to be in reality a secret passage in the form of a slide. The descent was quick and Edward was starting to have a lot of fun when they finally landed on the ground floor. She then ran across the Hall to enter a small room on the side of the teachers' table.

A tinkling of a key warned the girl of Filch's presence and hurriedly, she turned to a hippogriff-shaped statue, bowed deeply before him and whispered "downstairs" and suddenly the slab which they were on with the statue disappeared beneath them and they fell into a trap door which brought them one floor lower, into the dungeons of Slytherin. The young Ravenclaw turned to him and put a finger on his mouth.

The young boy saw a small group of students passing loudly and he leaned against the wall, thanking the sky for being hidden behind the statue. When they were over, the two Ravenclaws began to run at full speed again, and eventually they came to a staircase, which they climbed two steps at a time. But there was no opening at the end and Ed wondered for a moment if they would get stuck until the girl pronounced a "passcode" that allowed them past the stone wall.

They ran like the wind into another corridor and reached another staircase, this one made of wood. Luna advised him to put his foot on only every other step, otherwise they would creak very loudly and would attract Filch. The young alchemist scrupulously followed her advice and they reached a floor (which one he did not know, he had lost his sense of direction). Finally, after many detours, they arrived at the entrance to the tower of astronomy and Luna stopped there:

"She should be here. I'll wait for you here, if you want to."

Edward slowly climbed the steps of the tallest tower in the castle. When he reached the summit, a silvery figure turned abruptly as he approached. She was about to leave, but the young Ravenclaw, who had recognized the Grey Lady, gathered his courage and exclaimed:

"Wait!"

The apparition turned her milky and grave face and stared at him with a glimmer of mistrust in her eyes. She did not utter a word but the young man felt empowered to continue:

"I want to know why you ghosts avoid me like I have the plague!"

"It is simple, young man, you are an anomaly," said the noble lady in a tense voice.

"I am an anomaly on so many points that you have to specify a little more," cried the Ravenclaw.

"You're behind the Veil and you're still alive," the Gray Lady said in a dark voice.

"The Veil- what do you mean? Unless... is the Veil another name for the Gate?" Edward asked desperately, seeing that she was beginning to disappear into the wall.

"Indeed, and so you should know that you should not be alive," replied the ghost.

"I don't know!" Edward shouted. "I came here without knowing, I'm just asking you to help me understand!"

"You haven't died yet?" asked the beautiful woman.

"I do not know," said Edward, frankly.

He had never really known if he had died during the human transmutation or if he had been alive when he had met the Truth. Everything seemed to indicate that Al was dead when he decided to give him his right arm and yet he could save him. He had never known what this white void was, apparently could lead to all sorts of people, including beyond. After that, he knew no more than that.

"When we die," said the ghost, "we pass through the veil, what you call the Gate, and there we, the dead, have a choice: to stay in this world or to continue elsewhere to another place. Ghosts are those who have preferred to stay for different reasons: fear, guilt, resentment ... Of course, it sometimes happens that living people, after an accident, find themselves there for a short time, but they have not crossed the veil totally and so are not dead. They do not have access to the secrets behind."

"But that's not my case, I presume," Edward said.

"No," said the Gray Lady with a touch of envy. "You have passed beyond the veil, you have seen what was behind it, and you came back alive. We ghosts, because we have crossed this border of death and life, we have access to knowledge that the living do not and we can feel the imprint of the veil and death in other minds, and when we see you, we feel a being who should be dead but who can still eat, still breathe, still able to use magic, who lives!"

"I did not know I was dead," Edward mumbled absently, rubbing his head as he tried to explain: "The problem is that I do not have the right to say what I am."

"It's Him, isn't it?" questioned the ghostly apparition with reverence and a hint of fear in her voice, "He asked you to do some great deeds in this world and you- you have accepted."

"How did you know ?" asked the alchemist.

"I told you, we the dead, have some knowledge that the living do not yet possess, but we have no right to talk about it, apart from those who have crossed the are alive, but you crossed it nevertheless. That means I can talk to you about it."

"I do not have the right to talk to the wizards alive in this world ..." Edward smiled as he thought that the subtlety of the Truth would merit a fist in the face. "I suppose I can tell you a little more, I came from another world and I was sent here by the Gate, or rather the veil to fulfill a mission for Him." The circumstances of my arrival here, forced me to pretend that I was amnesic but now Professor Dumbledore believes that I am possessed and therefore a danger to the world."

"Dangerous you are, Edward Elric, otherwise you would not be here," the phantom declared enigmatically. "But you are definitely not possessed, I will go and see Dumbledore and convince him to leave you here, but in exchange I want only one thing: that you agree to speak from time to time with one of us."

"Well, I'm just asking for that," Edward replied, who had never dared to start a discussion with one of the ghosts because of their attitude toward him.

"Thank you, Edward Elric."

The ghost melted into the wall and Edward remained alone for a few moments at the top of the tower, thinking while looking at the park below him. Then, not wanting to make Luna wait any longer, he went down the steps and joined Luna, who was watching a painting carefully. She smiled at him and said that now that he was less surrounded by Wrackspurts, they could return to their common room. Edward nodded, thinking it might take a little time. But to his deep astonishment, she merely led him along a corridor. The two turned left to find themselves at their starting point. Shared between surprise, anger and hysteria, he asked her why she had taken such long detours to go to the astronomy tower.

"Don't you see, Edward? Because it was fun!"

Then she turned and said 'forty-two' to answer the question of the eagle's head: what is the answer to the secret of life, the universe, and all the rest, and entered the room singing.

"Luna, if you did not exist, someone would have to invent you," Edward whispered, shaking his head, finally giving in to the fun, and entered the room.

* * *

The next morning, the Grey Lady arranged to meet Professor Dumbledore in a deserted corridor. The old man seemed so plunged in his thoughts and so preoccupied that he practically did not see her and nearly passed through her. He immediately apologized with a gentle smile to the noble lady. The latter began the conversation at once:

"What haunts your mind, Professor?"

"Well, it's a very delicate problem, my dear Helena," the director sighed, wearily. "I'm going to call Edward Elric to determine if he's the victim of a possession, which means he has to be removed from Hogwarts."

"Edward Elric is not possessed, Professor Dumbledore," declared the Grey Lady firmly.

"And yet he frightens you, as well as the other ghosts," said the old wizard.

"And why is he frightening you, Professor Dumbledore?" asked the spirit, who, like all good Ravenclaws, knew how to take advantage of the unspoken to ask more questions.

"I've seen his memories and they're extremely worrying," Dumbledore replied.

"In that case, would it be possible for me to see them?" She asked. "As a Ravenclaw ghost, I have to be attentive to the good of the students in my house."

"I did not know that the ghosts could see the memories, but if that's possible, then why not: two opinions will be better than one to make such a decision," the headmaster agreed.

An hour later, after the Gray Woman could examine the memories carefully and could hear Dumbledore's theories about the young Ravenclaw's past, she thought for a few minutes, then turned to the old wizard and said,

"It's true, Dumbledore, that these memories are extremely dark, but they do not prove that Edward was possessed, they are too short to be able to deduce a 100% reliable assumption. You draw your conclusions too quickly, relying on your worst fears and emotions."

"My dear Helena, what hypotheses, as a objective Ravenclaw, would you posit?" asked Dumbledore, implicitly acknowledging that she might be right.

"It is probable that his father left, maybe for a long journey, but did he really leave his family forever? You do not know the reasons for his departure, how to know if he really abandoned them or if he has stopped loving them... As for the mother... it is true that she seems very sick and that it seems probable that she did not recover, so I agree with your hypothesis about her death. And their state of malnutrition, I do not know what to say. The man would have had no trouble killing them and we can not know for how long they have been hungry ... Mme. Pomfrey, has she noticed signs of poor nutrition in the long term?"

"Now that you say it, no, she did not notice anything when she did extensive examinations: apart from his rather small size, Ed seems to have developed normally: no signs of deficiency or embrittlement in the bones or teeth," replied Dumbledore, thoughtfully.

"So," continued Helena, "this event has remained unique, he was not starved all his life. Now these bloody images... They are too vague to give a reliable analysis. We do not know how he lost his leg, if it was an accident or an act of barbarism."

"I'm sure it was a ritual, Helena," Dumbledore said confidently.

"In this case let's go directly to the episode of the hospital and his leg," sighed the Gray Lady. "You thought it was an experiment, was not it?"

"Because of this unknown technology, even among the Muggles," the headmaster told her confidently. "I inquired about this artificial leg: nothing like it exists."

"Even if it's an experiment, why do you think it would have been done wrong?" said the ghost, surprised. "The boy had lost his leg and now he can walk almost normally. Muggle prostheses have evolved past the peg leg, whatever Alastor thinks, and even if it is stranger than the others, it seems to be nevertheless more effective... and as for the pain... many amputees would accept suffering to be able to walk again."

"You raise a good point," the professor agreed. "Let's move on to military training and this phrase about being a human weapon..."

"It's still training," said the Gray Lady. "He was not in the war, and given his difficulties climbing this rope, I do not think he can be described as a human weapon at that time, and we can not know when this sentence was said. He could very well be sixteen years old. In my time, a young man was already a squire, or even a knight.I also remind you that from that age a young man can engage in the army in Great Britain today. "

"But there he is not sixteen, but twelve, at most! And these men made him undergo the training of a seasoned soldier!" protested the old wizard.

"They weren't threatening him, they didn't mistreat him either, they seemed to be encouraging him. The brunet seems to tease him and make fun of him, but I do not feel it is out of malice. You know how much the young Edward is capable of. This training is not as hard as, say, leaving a philosopher's stone to first-year students..." she remarked with a hint of frost in her voice.

"Those were special circumstances..." Dumbledore said, lowering his head before continuing: "The fatal wound with a piece of metal, how would he have survived?"

"By not removing it, especially under pain of causing death by bleeding," said Helena. "If there were excellent healers or very good Muggle surgeons nearby, he had a small chance of surviving. Battlefield medicine is very capable of it. The convalescence would undoubtedly have been very long, but very possible."

"You really have an answer to everything, my dear, except this ritual," Dumbledore said with a slight smile.

"You do not want to give up your assumption of possession, Albus," Helena lamented. "In this case, let us turn to a specialist of the question. My colleague Adalard, by his vocation, is very well informed on this subject and gathered a lot of experience during his life. Adalard? Adalard?"

A few minutes later, the Hufflepuff House Ghost appeared, a benign smile on his ghostly face.

"You called me, noble Lady?"

"Actually," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile, "I would need your advice on Edward Elric."

"Ah, young Edward, a hard worker, and an aura so tragic..."

"Yes, Adalard, I have had access to some of his memories, if you will examine them."

"Faith, why not," the fat monk replied, plunging his hand into the pensieve and then pulling it away before floating, thoughtful for a few long minutes.

"So?" asked Professor Dumbledore, seeing the phantom lift up his head.

"My faith," replied the fat monk, "I have the impression that it is a ritual: the chalk marks and the pentacle are there, although I do not see any other ingredients like candles or salt; the work of an amateur. Yet, it still partially worked to judge the result, that thing."

"But do you think that the young Edward could have been possessed by an obscure force during this ritual, which would explain his abnormal, to say the least, use of magic?" asked the headmaster gravely.

"I could not distinguish the circle of ritual and without it, it is impossible for me to know what was invoked," said the ghost in a desolate tone. "Nevertheless, I do not think this young man was possessed : He was not inside the circle and he was only a child: if, as you think, he could be used with another child as a human sacrifice, then practitioners of Black magic would necessarily have ensured that their victims were as pure spiritually as they were bodily. And if an obscure force had been invoked, then it would have been initially attracted by a spirit that had already leaned towards evil. It would not have possessed a pure soul."

"And if Edward's soul had not been so predisposed," Dumbledore asked, remembering that Tom Riddle, at the same age of the Edward in his memories had already begun to lean toward the evil side.

"In this case, it would be difficult to judge," said the Fat Friar in a grave tone before continuing: "We men, it is not for us to judge souls and to fully know who among men is good and who is bad. I know someone who has tried to do it but he is unfortunately no longer of this world ... "

"Who?" inquired Dumbledore, interested.

"Nicholas Flamel, following a trip to Egypt, reported several works, including a famous book of Hieroglyphic figures, as well as a strange instrument, a five thousand year-old scale, which had the peculiarity, it was said, of judging the soul," explained the monk, frowning. He added: "but it must have disappeared when he died..."

"Not exactly, you see," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "You can imagine that it is in my possession because he bequeathed it to me." With your help, Adalard, we will be able to judge by ourselves! I will immediately summon the young Elric and prepare this instrument."

"Albus, I do not think that ..." began Adalard before interrupting himself, seeing that they were not listening.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, the scale was on the headmaster's desk, and the latter was plunged into the reading of a manuscript explaining how the strange instrument worked. The balance was of gold and looked very old: it was decorated with numerous hieroglyphics, the most notable of which was that of the all-seeing eye on the top of the column. The two trays were exactly at the same height, and the smallest grain of sand seemed capable of tilting one of the trays, thus establishing the rigorous accuracy of the object. An aura at once dark and luminous emanated from it, thus proving the dangerous nature of the instrument. The venerable sorcerer took out a box embedded in the support of the scale, opened it and gently pulled out a purple feather that seemed to weigh nothing. Instinctively, the two ghosts moved even farther from the desk. Dumbledore paid no attention to the fear of the two spirits. He placed the feather on one of the trays, without it dropping a millimeter, then he awaited Edward's arrival.

"Professor Dumbledore," declared the Friar with gravely, "I do not think it is reasonable to do this. To judge the soul is in no way a prerogative of man and no one can arrogate to himself the right to judge. Please think further on this."

"We need to know if Edward Elric is a danger to the hundreds of Hogwarts students I am responsible for," the Headmaster said seriously.

"Did you call for me, Professor Dumbledore?" asked Edward as he entered the room, escorted by Professor Snape.

"We'd just like to try a little experiment," the old wizard told him. "You just have to put yourself in front of this balance and say 'I stand before the law of Maat.'"

From the time he frequented the magical world and from his many experiences with alchemy, Edward had realized that no one should utter certain words lightly, especially when one did not know the meaning behind it. He had learned some things about inviolable oaths and this phrase seemed to have some commonality with ... He did not know what Maat's law was and he did not want to submit to a rule he knew nothing about, after all , "No one is supposed to ignore the law", which meant that he could be punished when he did not even know what he had done wrong!

He fixed the scales: this one provoked in him exactly the same feeling as the Portal of Truth, his wand to a lesser extent but especially that the Truth when that being looked at him. While he was looking at the eye on the top, he could not help remembering the One behind the Door, immense, threatening, who judged you and knew everything about you, the slightest fault, the smallest thought, which one could hide nothing from. The young alchemist continued to think while observing the instrument, a symbol of justice and rectitude, which demanded truth.

At that moment, Edward hated Dumbledore for putting him in this situation, without telling him the risks, assuming he knew them. For him, it was only an experience as harmless as the chemistry of college, but he could see the worried and tense faces of the two ghosts that watched the scale and himself with fear. Was not Dumbledore absolutely unaware that he played with too powerful forces? Or was this pride, which seemed to be inherent among sorcerers, which prevented him from seeing that he was venturing into a nonhuman domain?

Nevertheless, he had no real choice: if he refused to give himself to the experiment, God knows what would happen. Well, since it was somehow the latter who had placed him in such a situation, you could think/hope that nothing would happen to him... right? Taking a deep breath, he said aloud: "I stand before the law of Maat".

The atmosphere became oppressive and the eye of the balance seemed to twinkle like that of the being behind the Gate. The young boy turned pale and he felt a voice from beyond the grave speak to him in his head, a little like the Hat. Both objects had to be quite similar in their operation with this almost omniscient way of knowing what he was thinking. He had the impression that he had seen his whole life before him, including moments he could not remember.

He saw everything in him: his smallest defects, small petty thoughts towards his brother or his parents, faults so minimal that it was never remembered, and it was getting worse as it went on. He grew up. He contemplated the consequences of each of his actions and felt their feelings at that moment: his mother's grief when he refused to drink milk was small, the disappointment of his master following his transmutation, he refused to think too hard about that... He saw his pride and arrogance as he prepared to resuscitate his mother, his heavy responsibility for the condition of his brother and for all those he could not save, violence buried in him...

All his weaknesses, his incapacities, all that he did not want to know about his least shining side was unveiled in full light, without shadow to hide them and make them more acceptable. Shame and indignity were swallowed up in him, murdering him more harshly than a broken look of his brother, a sad smile from his mother or the true but hard words of his father when they had seen each other again.

At last everything ceased, and when he regained consciousness, he was kneeling on the ground, almost prostrate, trembling with all his limbs, his face on the ground, tears which he did not remember shed on his cheeks. He did not think he had ever experienced such torture, such suffering, the worst being that all this pain was his. He raised his head to the eye of the balance that seemed to judge him, and deep down he accepted the weight of his fault.

Dumbledore, for his part, had observed Edward's behavior and had seen him fall to the ground, as if weighed too heavily. He thought that this confirmed his fears about possession and then looked at the balance with a heavy heart, certain that the empty tray was going to lean, proving that Edward's soul was heavier than Maat's feather. But to his surprise, the two plates remained rigorously equal. The old wizard did not understand the results and did not dare touch the instrument. After all, its judgment was supposed to be without appeal or mistake.

Finally, the oppressive atmosphere disappeared and everything returned to normal. Professor Snape, who had been explained the ins and outs of the "experiment", helped the young Ravenclaw get up. Ed then fixed the director with anger and fury, and declared in an icy voice, with a hardness that was rarely seen:

"I do not know how to wish you, Professor Dumbledore: that one day you could feel the extent of such suffering or that you could not succeed and that you would suffer the consequences!"

Then, without adding a word, escorted by Professor Snape, he left the office, supported by the potions master. The latter turned and stared at the man who wanted to lead his fellow citizens out of the darkness, into the light: he was always leaning on the balance, trying to interpret what had just happened. Snape shook his head, a little disillusioned: he respected Dumbledore, he sincerely wanted the good of all, wanted to see goodness in all, to believe there was a second chance even for those who had committed the irreparable, for which he would be grateful to him forever.

But the potions professor was not sure that the director really had full and complete repentance, the abject suffering of knowing that one was responsible for a terrible act and that nothing that could be accomplished thereafter was sufficient to redeem yourself. Dumbledore thought that one could always redeem himself, that he himself could redeem the others ... but he, Snape, knew very well that even the old sorcerer could not erase what he had done and that the only forgiveness that mattered to him would come to him, one day, perhaps, from beyond.

* * *

Severus Snape looked at the boy he was supporting and whose haunted eyes reflected a torment and suffering that was difficult to imagine, enough regrets to go beyond the height of Hogwarts' astronomy tower ... Dumbledore had not understood something which he himself had seized: that it was not so much the number of faults that mattered but rather the sincere repentance concerning them. But apparently Edward Elric was obviously not in a position to discuss it.

As they arrived at the common room door, he caught sight of Luna Lovegood, who seemed to be waiting for them, uneasiness on her face replacing her usual dreamy air. She did not lose a moment: she politely thanked the professor for bringing back Edward, and with gentleness brought him into the Ravenclaw room.

* * *

Original author's note: This chapter is partly inspired by Egyptian mythology and the manga Yu-Gi-Oh. Congratulations if you manage to recognize where the reference is from.

Some of you, after reading this chapter, may have found me tough with Dumbledore. It is true that he is a rather ambiguous character of which one is not exactly sure if he is a bad manipulator or someone really desiring the good of all and peace in the world. (I barely exaggerate). That's why it's so easy for an author to make him a nice or a bad guy.

I personally read a lot of stories dealing with each of the two aspects and the authors often had good arguments to justify their views on the issue.

In this fic, I will take the view that Dumbledore really wants to act in the general interest, to see the common good (a notion even superior to the first). He does not want to hurt Edward (or Harry, for that matter), but he is willing to do whatever is necessary to make sure that more people can enjoy it. Here, Edward represents an unknown and potential danger in a school full of children: Dumbledore must make a decision that can be serious and he knows it.

Dumbledore is old and I know from experience that seniors often think they know better than others. The fact that he is a professor and the director of Hogwarts is amplifying this trend unfortunately. So he's an old man and he's over a hundred years old, so his thought is closer to that of a man of the early 20th century than a person of the 21st century...

In addition, Dumbledore, although he declared that he did not want power by refusing to accept the post of Minister of Magic, nevertheless held important positions of political responsibility (President of the Magenmagot in particular). This makes him a politician and unfortunately I do not have great respect for this category of person except a few exceptions, mostly deceased... Always it is that this role of politician has accustomed him to using manipulation to achieve his ends.

Finally, Dumbledore is human: he can make mistakes and that's what he did by trying to use the scales to judge Edward's soul. Dumbledore is capable of failure, let us affirm it frankly. He is not omniscient nor omnipotent, he can even make disastrous decisions. Book 7 has amply proved it.

Now let us try to explain a little more clearly his mistake in this chapter.

Warning, I will mention God in this passage, I am speaking here in the general sense, it is not the God of the Christians, or the Muslims, or other religions, although there may be resemblances in my way of understanding Him. If the name of God makes you a little peevish, you can always consider it as the Truth of the Fullmetal Alchemist manga because technically it's him I'm talking about...

Dumbledore sought to know the truth about Edward by using the Artifact of the Scale of Souls. In doing so, he assumed the role of judge of souls, which he had absolutely no right to exercise. Indeed, one can judge actions but traditionally, it is considered that the task of judging the person and his soul belongs to God in general. It is therefore a divine prerogative that Dumbledore appropriated by his experience and it is the same type of pride that leads Edward to try to resurrect his mother, another divine prerogative ...

So you can consider that if Dumbledore had done this in the world of FMA, he would certainly have had the same kind of trouble as Edward, to know, a meeting with the Truth ending in some disaster...

Now, let's get to know what Edward has undergone ... Technically, his soul has been judged, which means that he has seen all his faults, from the most serious to the most insignificant, without forgetting any. Faced with this, Edward felt regret about his actions, words, thoughts, etc. He knows he was wrong, knows where he has taken it and more importantly, he repented. To repent, in my opinion, one must feel in some way the pain and pain of having harmed others and oneself. Repentance is often painful, but according to my belief, it is a liberating pain because it places our acts before the light of truth by handing them back to their right places.

That is why Edward tells Dumbledore that he hopes that he would be able to feel such pain if he were subjected to this judgment: this pain makes it possible to know if one is on the road to redemption. We find this in Harry Potter with the Horcruxes: in order to "repair" a soul divided by the creation of a horcrux, one must be able to express regret concerning his act but Hermione emphasizes, if I remember correctly, that it is something terribly painful.

If Dumbledore, as he seems to do, shut himself up in his pride by thinking that he was right to do what he did, he will not feel regret or repentance, and in so doing he takes the terrible risk of moving away from the Truth. If he commits this fault, it means on one hand that he will not experience the terrible pain that Edward has suffered, but on the other hand it also means that he will not be released from the weight of his faults and therefore, that he will not be able to enter the Beyond. It's up to you to judge what will happen...

Well, I hope this little theology course did not bother you, but it's a dimension that interested me a lot in FMA and Harry Potter, two works that have a little spiritual side when you look at them carefully. You are free to think of what you want or to ignore completely this aspect of my fic: it is not as if I were trying to convert you to my religion. You can concentrate very well on the adventure part and not on the psychological or spiritual part, it is your full right!

* * *

Translator's notes: The Fat Friar doesn't have a name in canon, and mel72000 gave him the name Adélard, which I turned into Adalard to preserve the pun but make it an actual name he might have gotten.

The author's note is personally pretty interesting, given that it's written likely from a Catholic or secular perspective. France is largely Catholic, but also a very secular nation. I personally am somewhere between Humanist views and Jewish views, but the ideas are pretty interesting to think about.


	17. Chapter 17

I'm baaaaack! Here's 17; 18 will be out in September or when I finish 19, whichever happens first. Also, I'm going to college in a month! I don't own FMA, Harry Potter, or the orginal fic.

* * *

Chapter 17

It took Edward several days to recover from his trying experience. During that time he hardly spoke to others, including Luna or Harry. He was still furious with Dumbledore for torturing him to put him to the test, he didn't think he would ever forgive him. Harry and Hermione had noticed the change in Edward's behavior and his categorical refusal to talk about it, and decided to try to tactfully pry, but to no avail. The young alchemist was as silent as the grave regarding his appointment with Dumbledore.

He did not want to tell them what the old wizard had done to him for a couple reasons: first, Harry, even though he had established a distance between the headmaster and himself, still regarded him as a mentor and a person who appreciated him, and therefore he might decide not to believe him. Edward did not want to force his friend to choose between two people he trusted. Second, it was not certain that the old wizard meant to hae wronged him: his fault seemed more to spring from ignorance and too much self-assurance than in malice and wickedness. He himself, in the past, had already committed such faults, so it wasn't for him to throw stones at Dumbledore, even if the old wizard didn't have the excuse of youth!

As a result, he avoided talking about it, shutting himself up in silence. He spent more and more time in the Forest, no longer limiting himself to the weekend he needed to let off steam so much. It made him feel like he was punching a sandbag, a relief for his body and mind. He was usually exhausted, often with more or less serious injuries, which earned him one or two visits to the infirmary, forced by the Gryffindor trio. Needless to say, the terrifying Mme. Pomfrey had not been delighted to see him again, and had told him in no uncertain terms.

When he had a clear mind, the young alchemist thought that it was a miracle he had not yet been caught on his short excursions into a forest that was supposed to be forbidden.

In the Support Class sessions, he was no longer as extroverted or amusing according to the members of the small group. He was much more brittle, less understanding and he ended up asking Harry to take the whole class out of fear of losing his temper.

Finally, a week later, the young man was able to get out of his doldrums when he read Harry's interview in the Quibbler, which he had subscribed to thanks to Luna. The article narrated to the smallest details what had happened in the cemetery, denying the official version given by the Ministry. Edward had been lucky enough to be able to see the face of the odious Umbridge. She seemed to swell, like a bullfrog about to explode, when she had read the interview with fury burning in her eyes and in all her attitude, and the way her fingers were clenched on the newspaper... Edward had turned to Luna, who stared at him with a mischievous look and, by mutual agreement, they burst out laughing at the same time, surprising the entire Ravenclaw table and attracting the venomous glare of a certain High Inquisitor, which only made them laugh harder.

He later learned that Luna, Hermione, and Harry (who had been forced to mediate between the two) had "convinced" a former journalist (apparently with a great deal of blackmail) to interview the Boy-Who-Lived last weekend at Hogsmeade. The young Ravenclaw had persuaded her father to publish her 'friend's' article with immediate results. The Ministerial riposte consisted of an education decree prohibiting reading the Quibbler, which had caused a sort of sadness in Edward. In any case, it was the daughter of the owner who had supplied the article. Of course, he did not take everything that was in this magazine seriously, but some articles were original in their assumptions that proved sometimes... interesting. A pity that no one seemed able to discover the rare pearls among the crazier theories.

But by forbidding the reading of this periodical, Umbridge had only drawn attention to a magazine that had always remained in the shadows until then, and thus encouraged the population of Hogwarts to take an interest in it. This only proved Edward's theory as to the intelligence of the wizards of the ministry: the closer you get to Fudge's inner circle, the less chance you had of finding intelligent people.

In the days that followed, he watched happily as Umbridge struggled to confiscate copies of the Quibbler, without realizing that the pupils she taught were not as foolish as she thought. Edward could not help but marvel at the inventiveness of the teens in hiding the magazine and laugh at the cleverness of certain professors in encouraging dissent.

As a result, Ed mood became lighter and he had become much more cordial (tolerable, according to Hermione), and he had been able to resume his position with training the Support Class with a renewed inventiveness. He let himself run free, and his students didn't know whether they should rejoice that their instructor had regained his form or curse him for his inventions: he increased the difficulty even more, now inventing scenarios: situations where the members were besieged or where they had to infiltrate a stronghold. He was creating for them a regimen of real military training, inspired by certain episodes of his life, and thus taught the participants to react appropriately. The students came out exhausted, to the point that Harry and Hermione had decided to relent the training a little so as not to attract attention to the newfound rigor of Edward's enthusiasm.

* * *

Edward's renewed enthusiasm had another consequence: the week before, he deliberately skipped his Occlumency courses, showing his refusal to see his newly rediscovered memories. Snape had not tried to force him to resume his classes and the young alchemist suspected him of convincing Dumbledore not to insist on the subject, which was probably better because Edward was not sure he could forgive him.

But the day after the interview with the Quibbler, Harry had a new vision of Voldemort, this time from a more direct point of view. It seemed to concern the prophecy and Bode; unfortunately with no indication that could illuminate their location. Nevertheless, this proved one thing: Harry's occlumency ability had decreased when Ed's sessions with Professor Snape dried up. Edward noticed that he was acting like an intermediary between the two wizards who hated each other: the teacher limited his venom with a witness in the room and Harry made some effort to progress in his mastery of the occlumency thanks to the advice of the young alchemist.

But Ed's absence had worsened the situation: Harry holding Snape responsible for his friend's absence and Snape was behaving as usual...

Edward had trouble figuring out the Hogwarts Potion Master. He was sometimes a perfect bastard who surpassed Mustang, especially in his attitude toward Harry. He was also a pragmatic and very intelligent man, who considered all the solutions to a given situation and would not hesitate to adopt the hardest if he felt it was the best for all. There was also a third aspect much more hidden in this man: a real concern for his pupils. If Ed had represented a danger to Hogwarts, he would not have hesitated to have him locked up somewhere, far away to seal him, or even kill him. He had not appreciated the proposal in any way, but he could fully understand the reasons for it. As a result, he didn't feel true hatred or a profound animosity towards him, and could probably cooperate with him if everyone else would.

* * *

Professor Snape was preparing for the Occlumency session: Potter's (however minimal) progress seemed to have evaporated without his Ravenclaw companion keeping him company, meaning his efforts were reduced to nothing. Severus Snape knew he was not the best person to teach occlumency to the son of James Potter (in fact, he was certainly the last): he knew he would never have patience for it. The teacher began to regret the absence of Elric: the Ravenclaw seemed to provoke an unlikely feeling of emulation in the boy, he even suspected him of giving advice. It was really a pity that he no longer attended because during his dives inside the mind of Edward Elric, the legilimens had discovered that the teens thoughts seemed very organized and that his faculties of concentration certainly equaled his own at the same age. He would have made an excellent Occlumens.

But he also knew that never again would the young boy allow anyone to search his thoughts, especially after what had happened. He had to know that it was Snape who had revealed the contents of his mind to Dumbledore and judging by his last words to him, full of venom, the boy seemed to be the sort to hold a grudge. He had therefore stopped the headmaster from forcing him to resume the sessions: Elric was imaginative and dangerous, and such a mixture could prove at the very least humiliating and at worst fatal to the target of his anger.

That was why he was more than astonished when he saw the young Ravenclaw present at the Occlumency session at the same time as Potter, who seemed surprised and relieved to see him. The young man stared at him impassively, his golden eyes shining with a cold gleam. Ed assured him with a blank glare that the reason for his presence here was to prevent them from killing each other. He did not know if he should be vexed or not. He was even more amazed when he learned that he would agree to be tested, which seemed much stranger. There had to be another reason behind it.

The ease of effort it took to break through Potter's mind told him that the latter had relaxed his efforts, as he had expected, and Snape gave the boy sharp criticism which made the teen almost lose his composure. When he turned to Edward Elric, he seemed to be waiting for him on a firm footing, with a much less passive pace than in his previous attempts, and he then understood what the boy's goal was: he wanted to take advantage of these sessions to learn occlumency. Now, he was sure, the Hat had to have debated sorting him into Slytherin: only a member of his house would benefit from an attempt to explore his mind by trying to protect himself from this kind of intrusion. Very clever.

On the first attempt, the young boy seemed to concentrate on elements completely remote to his past: he recited the periodic table of elements, which, as far as Snape could judge, he knew by heart. This method resembled that of Potter when he recited Slinkhard's pathetic writing, which proved his hypothesis as to Elric's help for the Boy-Who-Lived. He tried to take advantage of a fault in the boy's recitation, but Ed proceeded to insult him in all sorts of languages. He definitely had a wide repertoire in this field and he spoke at least five or six languages, which was rather impressive.

His second attempt was more violent: if he wanted to know what a real attack of legilimency was, in that case, he would have to show him what it was. The young man's mind seemed shaken by the violence of the attack: to find his buried memories, the professor had never used brute force, preferring subtlety which was far preferable in case of amnesia. But this was no longer the goal and Snape shoved with as much force as in Potter's mind.

The Ravenclaw's mind was quick to find a distraction: he avoided giving in to the temptation to contemplate his own memories, jumping from one to another too quickly to distinguish anything. A skillful maneuver to save time, which worked and allowed Elric to recover by breaking the visual contact. The young boy seemed to be breathless, as if he had been fighting a hard fight, there was a mixture of fear (an emotion rarely seen in him) and determination. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to concentrate, before opening his eyes with a decided air.

The third attack was the most violent, and Ed's defense was a mixture of the two preceding ones: he tried to overwhelm his mind with hundreds pieces of knowledge that were very varied but unrelated to his life, passing abruptly from one to the other and leaving no time to distinguish details. Finally, the migraine prevented Snape from continuing his advance and it was he who broke the contact this time.

Elric seemed exhausted by his effort; nevertheless, he did not try to hide the triumph in his eyes: he had forced his aggressor to break the contact this time, which, considering his ability level, was a deal more acceptable.

"Trust a Ravenclaw to bury you under his wisdom," Snape remarked.

"Not just once, either, Professor," replied the Ravenclaw, within his voice a shade of derision quite perceptible.

"Nevertheless, such a result proves that, unlike Mr. Potter, you have a gift for it."

This time, Edward was silent and frowned, unwilling to accept such a compliment at the expense of his friend. A Ravenclaw with the traits of Hufflepuff and Slytherin, perhaps even Gryffindor? An interesting mix. Potter, on the other hand, frowned but reserved his angry glare for his teacher, who was more than satisfied with it; glad that he did not hold the Ravenclaw responsible for his failure!

"Potter, you can go. Elric, stay here."

Reluctantly, the young Gryffindor left the room, unwilling to leave his friend alone with the teacher he hated.

"Why did you come back, Elric?" Professor Snape asked, although he already knew part of the answer.

"I've already told you," the boy replied, returning his look, "Professor, to keep you from killing Harry or vice versa. Harry needs to learn occlumency, I understand that, and nothing should get in the way of that, especially not stupid little grudges!"

Edward was particularly angry: if Dumbledore's camp wanted to win the war against Voldemort, they would need to put aside their enmity. He had spied on enough Order meetings to see that Sirius and Snape spent most of their time exchanging veiled insults and sneaky remarks. Nobody seemed to understand that in a war, you could end up with people you could not normally stand. This was the case in the battle of Central on the Promised Day: Mustang and Armstrong, the Ishvalan people had fought alongside Amestrians who had participated in their genocide; he himself had managed to cooperate with a Homunculus, with the killer of Winry's parents who had tried to kill him several times, and his father who had abandoned him!

"You're not going to make me believe that's your only reason," Professor Snape retorted.

"No, I'm going to learn Occlumency, with or without your help, so that no one can look through my head to search for a past that doesn't matter right now," said Edward.

After all, he had said the strict truth: to think of his past, in his own world, was absolutely not his priority at this time and would only distract him from his task. If he wanted to go home, he had to solve the situation here, in the present, and not sink into nostalgia and guilt.

"And you're telling me this? Are you not afraid I'll tell the headmaster?" asked Snape, surprised by the teen's frankness.

"You can if you want," Edward replied, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't care. Anyway, I will learn occlumency. If Professor Dumbledore wants to consider me an enemy, it's his choice, he's free to ignore the 'experiment' he did on me."

"Do you know what the purpose of the experiment in question was?" Snape asked, eager, deep down, to know what had really happened.

"It's indescribable," replied the Ravenclaw, his gaze still haunted and with an infinitely sad look in his eyes, "A judgment- the judgment, one that depends only on you and your standing in the eyes of the Truth. So terrible, and so just... I can not tell you more, Professor."

"You're not very clear," said the teacher, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not really something easy to understand, Professor," Edward sighed. "If you tell him about my learning of occlumency, I do not think he will allow me to stay at Hogwarts, I must admit that it would be a shame: the castle, all these beings, my friends in Gryffindor and Luna and her Crumpled-Horn Snorkack would miss me. "

"And you trust me not to tell him?" Snape asked, incredulous that this boy could trust him on such a serious subject.

"It's up to you to see if I represent a danger," said Edward, determined to play fair with the most suspicious Hogwarts professor.

"I know you're dangerous, Elric, do not deny it, I know how to recognize it, whether you're amnesic or not, and I know you know it. You can watch for unpredictable danger, that's why I'll keep an eye on you, Elric. Do not tell the headmaster of your project, betray my trust and you will pay dearly for it." A tone that left no ambiguity about the price in question.

"Understood," replied the young Ravenclaw with a simple smile.

"Know that I do not think you'd be better off joining the Dark Lord. After all, being the focus of his attention is never a good thing," the teacher said.

"In that case, that's one more reason for me to learn Occlumency," said Edward, who had noticed both the warning and the undoubtedly voluntary disclosure of the professor's knowledge.

"If you can..." the Potions Master left, not deceiving himself: if Elric wanted to master this discipline, he would succeed. He had the necessary qualities for that.

The former alchemist left Professor Snape's office and went to go to Ravenclaw Tower. Feeling followed, he took a detour, hid himself, and when he heard a footstep, he turned towards the sound and struck the person. Edward recognized the scream that followed, half muffled by fabric, as belonging to Harry. Amazed, he took off his friend's strange cloak to reveal the dark haired teen, who was holding his bloody nose.

"Uh... sorry... I didn't know who was following me, so I attacked." Edward apologized, rubbing his neck with an apologetic smile.

"I wanted to know what he told you. It's after curfew, I don't want to be seen," Harry explained, pinching his nose to stop the flow of blood.

"What's this, anyway? It's really great," Edward said, feeling the fabric and wondering how it worked.

"It's been passed down my family for generations and it has been very useful to me..." said the Boy-Who-Lived, accepting Ed's handkerchief.

"No kidding, I understand better how you could have had all those adventures without getting caught," replied the young Ravenclaw.

"What did Snape want from you?" Harry interrupted.

"He wanted to ask me about Occlumency and my practicing it," Edward replied with ease.

"I thought you were taking these lessons to find your memories," Harry wondered.

"Let's say that that's no longer my priority and I will instead devote myself to concealing my thoughts." the blond told him. "After all, if, as you said, I might become a target of Voldemort, I should be prepared as well."

"And Snape's gonna help you?" Harry asked, deeply incredulous.

"If he finds me competent, maybe..." supposed the Ravenclaw in an indifferent tone.

"For all the help he is..." Harry grumbled.

"Ha ha ha!" Edward burst out laughing, "I'll admit he doesn't help much, it's true. You tried what I said, with the textbook?"

"I don't know how to clear my mind, but Snape complimented you when it was over," the Boy-Who-Lived recalled, "I can almost get into the Ministry every night! He's not an ass when it's your turn, which means he's impressed. How do you do it?"

"As far as I can tell, I'd say I'm a little bit... unique," Ed said sarcastically, before continuing: "The mind is complex, Harry, and above all, it differs according to your personality, history, emotions... Clearly, it's different for everyone. What works with Snape and I may well be completely useless to you."

"Damn. But in this case, how could I learn it?" Harry asked, trying to calm down.

"You can't empty your mind because you have too much on your mind at the moment, and concentrating on something boring only works for a short time..." enumerated the young alchemist, thoughtful. He then asked: "Have you tried 'attacking' back?"

"Legilimency? I do not even know how to do that!" exclaimed the teen wizard.

"I wasn't thinking about that," Edward interrupted. "More like using a selection of memories that your attacker would not be able to endure, and putting that up as a shield- but that would be very complicated because it would only work for one person. Another attacker would not react in the same way to a certain memory... We could try with Snape as a guinea pig."

"Okay, and if that works, I'll have to find out what Voldemort hates," Harry continued, obviously delighted to hear Snape being called a guinea pig.

"Now what does Snape hate? I mean, apart from you- things that would keep him from concentrating," his friend said with a smile.

"Um... being ridiculed, I think. That's one of my favorite memories, him with this ghastly hat on his head," Harry snorted, remembering his first defense class in third year. "He hates my dad and the Marauders in general, so maybe memories of Sirius and Remus... I think he's afraid of Werewolves too. Sirius pranked him once. He told him how to get into the Shrieking Shack, and he went while Remus was transformed there... What?"

"That explains a lot," Edward murmured, a bit paler as he stared at his friend gravely, knowing at last the reason for the enmity between the two men: "I hope you are aware that that could be seen as attempted murder?"

"He did it himself, and then my father saved him in time..." Harry whispered, very uncomfortably. He had never really thought about it. He went on: "Sirius ... He was young and he's a good guy and he told me that Snape was trying to get them expelled."

"That doesn't really excuse it," Asked the blond boy gently, staring straight into his eyes. "Being young does not excuse a fault, you are young too, and so far you have only killed in self-defense or to save someone's life. Telling another student who he didn't like how to get into a building where a monster- no, don't interrupt me! Lupin is certainly a good and nice person but when he is a werewolf he is mortally dangerous once transformed. Even if your father saved him, does that absolve Sirius?"

"I don't know, but that doesn't excuse Snape for being so unfair!" Harry exclaimed.

"Indeed, it's not right for him to hate you because of your father and it's not fair that he takes advantage of Occlumency sessions to behave like this. But you have to admit that Snape has strong reasons to hate Sirius and that your godfather is not really completely innocent in this case. And if he doesn't regret what he did, then it can only add salt in Snape's wounds," Edward said bitterly.

"Geez, Snape doesn't seem like that," Harry shook his head, unable to associate the image of the cold and insensitive professor with a state of vulnerability.

"And yet he is also human, like you, like me ... We are all human, with our strengths and our weaknesses, even if some try to hide it or deny this fac.t Some become inhuman by transforming their pain into hatred; others try not to feel any more to protect themselves from suffering. And some create masks to hide their true feelings, " the alchemist described, while thinking of certain examples of his world: Scar, and to a lesser extent, Mustang ...

"You're really trying to figure out Snape," the Boy-Who-Lived realized, dumbfounded.

"Understanding is the way everyone should look at life," he said firmly, "Understanding should be at the basis of any action because otherwise you are condemned to make mistakes or worse. Understanding someone else doesn't make them a friend, but it is a first step towards pity, compassion, maybe even forgiveness."

Memories passed through his mind: his encounter with the Ishvalans in the ruins of Xerxes; the brief moment when Scar had collaborated with him against Father when they had seen him for the first time; Lt. Hawkeye, who had plunged him into the very roots of the conflict; his discussion with Miles; and finally, the Promised Day where they had all cooperated to save the world. When you learn to understand someone, then the other could also understand you, which was always a first step towards less hostile relations. Edward was not naive, however; understanding the other did not mean that everything would turn out alright after that. After all, knowing Envy's motives had not prevented him from continuing to despise Ed, to the point of committing suicide because of it.

"Understanding has to be mutual, you know," Harry pointed out. "But I don't think that Snape will ever try to understand me. He's hated me since he first saw me."

"You can still try for a few reasons: first, there maybe a chance, even a small one, to make things better. Second, it will prove to yourself that you haven't lowered yourself to his level and that you're better than him. Third, if you really want to hate, and to hate him, then understanding him will allow you to find a weak point that you can aim for. It's up to you to decide why you want to understand him. But in any case, you should have an interest in trying because you have nothing to lose," Edward said.

"That's a Slytherin way of thinking," the dark haired teen smiled at his friend's reasoning.

"The Sorting Hat had a hard time sorting me," confirmed the blond.

"Me too," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had ended up with Slytherin. I would have really been a headache for Snape: would he have treated me like the other Slytherins or would he have continued hating me?"

"Who knows ... maybe in order to understand Snape, you'll have to appeal to your Slytherin side."

"I'm not sure he would appreciate 'a disdain for regulations' even though it's one of the Slytherin qualities."

"Given that it's midnight and curfew's been going on for three hours, I think we can say that the disregard for the rules is common to Slytherin, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Edward remarked, looking at his watch.

"Damn! Hermione is going to kill me" Harry swore before bidding good night to Ed before fleeing towards the Gryffindor common room. Ed did the same and left for Ravenclaw tower.

* * *

Original author's note: Well, that's all for today, other than some author's notes.

As you may have noticed, I'm taking full advantage of Severus against Sirius and even the Marauders, and for simple reasons: in my opinion, it was the latter who were most at fault. I won't go over Sirius' attempted murder, I think I explained enough through Edward what I thought of it. In my opinion, Sirius should have been expelled from Hogwarts purely and simply for what he did that night.

Moreover, I take the side of Severus because I had the opportunity to be in his place during my years of middle school and it's frankly not an enviable place. When I think of Snape, I think he was even less fortunate: until the end of his fifth year, he had only one true friend, Lily, a Muggle born. He was isolated within the Slytherins, a number of whom had become Death Eaters, he was harassed by a group of boys who were obviously very popular in the school, which meant that he had no support, the fact that Sirius was not punished by the headmaster for what he pulled with the Shrieking Shack shows that they were favored by the teachers (many remembered them with some affection in the third book )...

In short, constantly tormented by many students for his very existence (in James Potter's own words!), Without the obvious support of the professors, without the possibility of changing schools and condemned to undergo the same life for seven years I think many would not have resisted the temptation to want to be strong by joining a group that promises revenge on your enemies. Either that, or there is suicide. I am not joking here: harassment and constant mocking with humiliations such as the one that Severus suffered in his worst memory can definitely lead a person to choose the simplest exit door, especially in adolescence, a time where one is particularly fragile and badly fitting in their skin. In any case, actions by people like the Marauders can lead their victims to extreme acts.

Never underestimate how far actions like those of the Marauders can lead. Seriously, these boys were not saints. Afterwards, James may have repented or was not ready to go as far as Sirius. Still, he ended up maturing a little during the war, and he must have grown in his seventh year because I doubt that Lily would have agreed to go out with a boy who continued his bullying to the end.

But Sirius does not seem to have grown up in his relationship with Severus: he continues to call him nicknames worthy of primary school, never seems to have apologized for what he did to Severus, he complained of not having anything to do as if it were a game when frankly no one should be in a hurry to see a war break out...

Severus, laughing at his inability to do anything, is also cruelly lacking in maturity, but at least his sarcasm is a little more adult... I will discuss this subject another time ...

* * *

Translator's note: In the author's notes, I translated collège as middle school, though some of you guys may know it as junior high. It's the equivalent of sixth through eighth grade. I also edited the discussion of suicide a bit because it was… insensitive at best at the start.

This chapter is actually what made me want to translate this so that more people could enjoy this fic. I personally hate Snape's guts and feel no sympathy for him, but mel72000 makes such a good case that you can see her point of view. (Albeit I don't agree with mel's assessment of that as attempted murder, it was Snape's own damn fault and James saved him. I was pretty heavily bullied in middle school, but I don't sympathize with Severus.  
And, while Snape did have only Lily for a friend, he called her the Wizarding n-word and joined the Wizard Klan while James improved himself, so he dug himself into that hole.) Even though I disagree, I can still respect her point of view.

Also, the invisibility cloak has been passed down the Potter line FOR GENERATIONS!


	18. Chapter 18

Hey! I finally started some really effective anti-anxiety meds and anti-depressants and so I channeled my newfound energy into translations. I'll post 19 when I finish chapter 20 or in October, whichever comes first. I don't own any of this stuff.

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Chapter 18

Edward walked with Harry to Professor Snape's office, both hidden under the cloak of invisibility: the alchemist would not let go of the Boy-Who-Lived until he showed him how it worked. That Edward could sometimes behave like a real kid when something excited him always amazed the young wizard.

A few minutes later, they were both seated in front of the Potions Master, who was preparing to try to penetrate their minds. Ed went first. Snape was able to see some memories that were too vague and imprecise, even if he studied them using the pensieve. The young boy scrolled through his memories very quickly, and those he managed to grasp were of no importance and even seemed to be carefully selected for that purpose. The Death-Eater-turned-spy hid a smile of satisfaction on seeing this: soon his pupil would be sufficiently talented to create false memories and to make him believe what he wanted. This boy had found the methods of concealing the contents of his mind by himself. If he had the imagination for that, he did not need Snape to give him more than a little advice to integrate them into his defense. Finally, knowing that he could not penetrate the Ravenclaw's mind, he stopped his attack and turned to his other student.

Edward took advantage of the break to massage his temples to try and soothe the migraine caused by the attack: Snape had not gone easy on him! Then he began to observe the confrontation between Snape and Harry. The Professor's face was a mask of fury- Harry must be trying his advice to concentrate on memories that Snape would hate for sure... He sighed imperceptibly: all this was going to end badly and Snape's immediate reaction didn't prove him wrong.

"You are decidedly as arrogant as your father, Potter, judging by your memories," spat the teacher.

"And why is that?" Harry replied with a hint of insolence in his voice, "That pushed you away, didn't it?"

"And you think that kind of lousy memories will push back the Dark Lord, Potter?" Snape asked sardonically. "We're starting again."

The confrontation turned quickly this time: as far as Ed could judge, Harry had succeeded in repelling the attack and even penetrating the mind of the professor. This was, to Ed, a sign of incontestable progress which deserves to be applauded. Paradoxically, this small success would no doubt cost Harry a lot and he had to be aware of it, because he seemed very nervous. The dark haired teen didn't dare speak. Unfortunately, Professor Snape did not bother being merciful.

Without allowing Harry time to recover or even to understand how he managed to do that, he recast _Legilimens_ on the Boy-Who-Lived. Edward wanted to bang his head against a wall when he saw this. The young Ravenclaw expected to see Harry completely rolled by the professor's attack, but to his surprise he forced the attack out again. Snape turned pale and stepped back. He contented himself with a "Get out!" in a dark tone, and the two students hastened out of the office, not in a hurry to suffer the wrath of the professor.

"What did you show him this time?" Edward asked, a little worried about Snape's unusual reaction.

"I don't know, I swear!" Harry exclaimed, "I had decided to try using a memory like you would for a Patronus, a memory that could protect me from Voldemort."

"And what did you choose?" asked his friend in a pressing tone.

"My mother," Harry murmured, almost inaudible. "My mother's last words before she died protecting me. It's not a happy memory but it's thanks to her that I'm still alive and she was my best protection against Voldemort for thirteen years. But I didn't think it would do that to Snape."

Edward remained silent as many thoughts swarmed at once in his mind, forming a connection he hadn't seen before but now seemed obvious to him: Snape had hated James Potter and hated Harry, but had he hated his mother? He never mentioned her in her insults during sessions. Snape was an intelligent and rational person: if he were prattle and nonsense, he would probably have overcome his anger at Harry's father, unless another there was another reason for this hatred: love for a woman who had preferred his rival. If that were the case, then, it must have been a real torment for Snape to teach both the son of the love of his life and his rival, assembled in one person. Harry was the spitting image of his father, with the eyes of his mother.

Was Dumbledore crazy? To inflict such a torture on a man, to force him to teach something like occlumency to someone who unknowingly represented a reminder of what he had lost? How could he do that? Ed hoped with all his heart that he was mistaken, that he was mistaken, but now it seemed all too obvious to him. What was he to do now? He could not tell Harry: that much was certain. It was not up to him to reveal such a thing, but to the main person concerned. This kind of revelation, whether it involved the father or the mother, could deeply hurt someone, more painfully than a stab in the heart, and he refused to inflict such a wound on his friend.

Suddenly, a cry interrupted the increasingly dark thread of his thoughts. The two boys looked at each other and headed toward the entrance hall of the castle where all the students were gathered in a circle. Professor Trelawney, in tears, faced the High Inquisitor. The unfortunate psychic moaned, curled up on the ground, watching as her suitcases were unceremoniously thrown on the ground, their contents scattered on the floor. Obviously, her probation had ended with her dismissal and her public humiliation unfolded before Hogwarts, pupils and teachers together, proof of the sadism of the odious representative of the Ministry. Even those who disliked the divination teacher or her subject, like Professor McGonagall, took the side of the unfortunate teacher against her tormentor.

Umbridge's odious puffery was thwarted by the arrival of Dumbledore, who chose this moment to arrive and introduce the new professor of divination, Firenze. The sight of the centaur almost gave the toad a stroke; to Ed's great disappointment it didn't happen even though it really would have solved a lot of his problems. The teen, however, would keep the sight of the crimson face of the odious little witch, puffed this time by indignation and fury ready to explode at any moment in his heart. It really was truly a most satisfying view.

* * *

The next morning, after his two hours of morning training, Edward decided to pay a visit to Firenze the centaur to congratulate him on his post. He knocked on the ground-floor door before entering the room, which looked like the edge of a forest, a very pleasant place, the ceiling of which reproduced the celestial vault and the constellations of a spring night . It was really impressive and Edward lay down on the soft grass, delighted to enjoy a moment of calm and peace. He closed his eyes and whispered "wonderful".

"Isn't it?"

"Oh, Firenze, or rather Professor Firenze. Congratulations on your position."

"Thank you, Edward Elric," replied Firenze, cordially. "Unfortunately, most of my herd do not see things the same way. Normally my brothers would have exiled me but Magorian agreed to allow me to take the position under two conditions: the first is to prove the value of our race to wizards."

"Good luck with that; Umbridge is a complete racist." Edward said skeptically.

"I know," replied the centaur fatalistically. "The second was to keep an eye on you while you were at school."

"Oh, should I be worried?" asked the alchemist.

"It's not a threat to you," Firenze said. "But Magorian has read in the stars that you will play a big part in the coming war and that your death or your survival will be of crucial importance for the future of the world."

"I don't care if the stars, the moon, the sun or even a tv satellite predicted that I would save the world just by staying alive. If I have to save the world, it will be because I would have decided to do it because it's the right thing to do.I decide what I do myself and no one has the right to dictate to me what I have to do, Firenze, not even God and anyway, I tend to think that even He would leave it to me."

"In that case, if you refuse to see it as a sign for you, let us see it as an omen for others," the blonde centaur said.

"I don't like prophecies, and you know that too. In my opinion, it's just a good excuse for people to sit down and wait for everything to happen without them having to lift a finger because they're too busy waiting for a supposed savior, a hero who will do the dirty work for them. Of course, they'll let them go as soon as they fail to fully meet their expectations, just like Harry! Where I come from, people, men and women, have fought body and soul to prevent a similar threat from destroying everything."

"I do not know what happened to you, Edward, but did everybody really fight with you?" There must have been civilians, people who were unaware of what was going on, which did not prevent you from fighting for them. Do these people not deserve a little hope?" asked Firenze, with a playful gleam in his eyes.

"I hate it when you turn my logic back on me," Edward groaned as he got up.

"You know Edward, we centaurs, since our ancestor Chiron, have learned to recognize heroes and I regret to announce that you fit the profile very well," declared the centaur.

An exasperated growl answered him as Ed slammed the door.

* * *

Several weeks passed in an increasingly dark atmosphere thanks to Umbridge, whose shadow of tyranny and obscurantism over the castle and its inhabitants weighed heavily on the students. The days of classes trudged one after another, interspersed with the Occlumency lessons and Support Course sessions, with notable improvement in both.

Harry had decided to fall asleep each night thinking of his mother, drawing on memories related to the Mirror of Erised and drawing from the few photos of her that he had gathered to form an image of her as a protecting mother, forbidding evil to enter. As a result, he would wake up in the middle of the night, with a bitter taste in his mouth and a rage that did not belong to him, a sign that Voldemort was trying to infiltrate into his mind during his sleep, as predicted by Snape. He had noticed the progress of his most hated student and had not said anything, save a single derogatory comment when Harry had to reluctantly explain what he was doing to keep his thoughts secret. This lack of reaction had stunned Harry, but, to Ed's great relief, the dark haired teen hadn't dug further into this mysterious happening.

Edward, during these lessons, was content to make more and more progress in his mastery of the subject, having fun creating false memories after Snape gave him a few tips. The Potions Master seemed to consider him worthy to breathe the same air as him now. Edward almost swore that the most hated Hogwarts professor (Slytherins not included) appreciated him more and more, assuming he could appreciate a foreigner who represented a potential danger to the school ...

When Snape felt that he could not teach him anything else about Occlumency, he decided to see what Ed could do with legilimency and asked him to experiment with Harry. In fact, he suspected that it was a way for the spy to escape the sight of Harry's mother, who now appeared systematically every time he tried to read his pupil's thoughts as if to protect him. Edward had of course asked permission from his friend, refusing to violate his mind before trying the Legilimens spell.

To his surprise, it had been ridiculously easy to sink into Harry's mind as he had already done it once before: on the Promised Day when he had ripped Pride's soul from the philosopher's stone to which he was bound. At the time, the attempt had been extremely complicated, a risky gamble, since it required Ed to perceive himself as energy drawn from the Philosopher's Stone in order to keep his individuality in the midst of the hundreds of souls contained in the homunculus. Here, it was just one person, which was easy enough to orientate oneself in. Nevertheless, as soon as he understood this, he had at once stopped his invasion of his friend's mind. To enter the thoughts of another was perhaps easy for him but he refused to do it except in case of necessity, even when Snape had told him that he would make an excellent Legilimens. He preferred by far to trust people, even if he let himself be deceived, rather than constantly seek the truth from them by violating their thoughts.

Snape had seemed disappointed with his student's lack of boldness but had not insisted and Harry, although he had not said anything, had been secretly relieved that his friend did not pursue the experiment further …

* * *

Other than that, Edward continued his discoveries of the magical world, in particular by talking to the different creatures of the Wizard World.

Thus, he had started, on Hagrid's suggestion, to attempt to teach English to the half-giant's little brother. The teen alchemist was not really sure this was a good idea; he personally doubted it. The giant seemed more interested in the golden color of his hair and similar shiny stuff, like a magpie, and he did not pay much attention to his lessons. He had learned to say Eddy, eat, love and a few words, but he couldn't manage complete sentences or subject/verb agreement. But for Hagrid, this was amazing progress, so Ed continued but without holding any illusions about Grawp's ability.

He was always in contact with the house elves who continued to supply him, to his delight, with sweets and snacks that were welcome when he forgot to eat by dint of studying too long in the library . He also had tried to talk to them about how they used magic and he had come to understand that the elves required a catalyst to use magic that could be provided by their bond with wizards. The young Ravenclaw had begun to record the result of his research on the elves and a number of their legends in a separate notebook he was planning to give Hermione for her birthday.

The discussion with the ghosts, on the other hand, was often instructive for the young Alchemist. Since they had crossed the veil, they knew some very interesting things about the beyond and agreed to talk on the subject since Ed had also seen what was on the other side. If the discussion with spirits like Moaning Myrtle gave nothing, the knowledge offered by the House ghosts proved to be a wealth of information. The teen had first tried to learn more about the ghosts themselves and the reason for their presence here; some had been rather reluctant but they had finally confided in him. The Gray Lady and the Bloody Baron, the oldest Ghosts of Hogwarts, had died following the murder of the first by the second, who committed suicide in despair. Helena had returned here because of her guilt, while remorse had prevented her murderer from leaving, a tragic story. The ghost of Gryffindor had been afraid of death and what might be after and had not dared, to his great shame, to continue. The Fat Friar had returned for justice to be done for his assassination by poisoning. Others had come back to take revenge on a living person like Myrtle, and some had lives that were so routine that death had not changed anything, as Binns did.

The ghosts sometimes talked with him together, sometimes in small one-on-one interviews. Most of the time they talked about history, metaphysics and philosophy, topics of interest to the Ravenclaw who loved nothing more than to learn more about this world. For their part, the ghosts themselves liked to see themselves treated as real people and not as elements of the landscape or objects of laughter or fear. The traveler from beyond the world did not judge them, and even if his strange aura always had something intriguing, he seemed to try to understand them better than other wizards. It was for this reason that Helena went so far as to confide her secret to him one evening at the top of the Astronomy Tower:

"So, if I understood you correctly, you came back here in the form of a ghost because you were guilty of stealing your mother's tiara, is that it?"

"Obviously, on my return, my mother was heartbroken and she died, two days later because of my theft," murmured Helena, her eyes dark.

"Do you really think it's your theft that broke your mother's heart? I think it's your death and maybe that you're a ghost," Ed said with as much tact as possible .

"But because of me, her magic diadem was lost forever!" exclaimed the ghost, obviously nervous.

"She's your mother." affirmed Edward as if it were self-evident. "Compared to her child, even the most beautiful jewel is worth nothing to a mother, I'd say that she was sad to know you were dead and to know that you were so locked in your guilt and remorse, that you refused to move on and to go further, towards a better world... I believe that, basically, all parents want their child to move forward, towards the future."

"Anyway, it's too late now," lamented the Grey Lady with regret in her eyes.

"Who knows, we might be able to solve that one day. What was so important about the diadem that you wanted it at all costs?" asked Edward, puzzled.

"You do not know the story? It is said that it could give wisdom to its possessor and make them more intelligent than anyone, like my mother was."

"That's not possible!" the young alchemist exclaimed passionately. "Wisdom can be acquired only through experiences of life itself, through your encounters with others, the events you have lived through, the misfortunes that have aggravated you, the difficulties you have overcome, by the joy you have felt in every happy moment of your existence.I am willing to believe that there can be an object that is capable of increasing the number of neurons and making you, in theory, more intelligent. But there's no thing in this world that can make you wiser by putting it on your head! Wisdom concerns the soul and not the spirit and no one can boast of being all-knowing because it will never be enough!"

"Mother would repeat that to me every time I asked to put on her diadem. She would have loved you," murmured the ghost with a touch of bitterness and jealousy.

"Uh, sorry?" Edward said with embarrassment, his hand rubbing his neck: he never knew what to say when he made this kind of blunder.

"It's my own fault that I did not listen to my mother's words. Did you not have an appointment?"

"Oops, you're right, I'm going," Edward exclaimed as he got up and ran toward the stairs.

He ran at full speed through the corridors, eager to reach the Room of Requirement, especially since today's session would be entirely devoted to learning the _Patronus_ charm. He entered the last room and closed the door. He listened very attentively to Harry's brief presentation as he explained how to produce a Patronus. As far as the alchemist could tell, this consisted of enveloping happy memories with magic to form a positive energy mass to repel Dementors. According to the Boy-Who-Lived, the Patronus assumed the appearance of a protective animal, which was thought to represent one's soul. He had even confided that his was a stag, which had been the form of animagus of his father, to Ed.

Edward began to let his mind drift by trying to imagine what form a Patronus might take for each of his friends back in Amestris: Alphonse's would certainly be a cat, considering his love for the creatures... Lieutenant Hawkeye, it would be a dog like Black Hayate and for Mustang, no doubt a hawk with piercing eyes, given the relationship between the two. For his Master, he would guess a solid bull, like her husband... For Gen. Armstrong, maybe a bear and for her brother, an imposing elephant? Scar, an animal of the desert, a scorpion, vindictive and vengeful or, on the contrary, a wise animal as his brother had been: a raven, perhaps, sign of family love; or the wasp symbolizing the superior initiate... Mei Chang would have been delighted by a panda like Xiao Mei. For Ling, maybe a lion, a fox or a badger: the first because of his desire to become emperor and the last two because of his cunning, something he did not lack. Granny Pinako might have been a panther. Winry... He didn't know. A phoenix? A dragon?

He cut off this thread of thoughts to practice the spell. He concentrated with all his strength, for, as with all magic concerning the soul, it was an act of magic that was excessively complicated, so he proceeded cautiously. Finally, a very long, silver band escaped from his wand, taking the form of a very large serpent, with very fine scales, which began to circulate between the different members of Support Course, It immediately caused little cries of terror among them, to the great amusement of the teen. A few grunts were issued about his animal, which was considered too Slytherin, but this commentary prompted only a shrug from Edward: for him the serpent was a symbol of knowledge of the most crucial mysteries of the universe; such a protector did not disturb him in the least

He glanced at the other students. Luna had a hare, an excellent lunar animal. Hermione had an otter, an animal that was pretty close to a weasel (perhaps he should tell Ron?) ... The latter's Patronus was a dog, a terrier. Cho Chang, Potter's ex girlfriend had a swan, Ginny's was a horse, Seamus, who had joined them recently, had a fox. On the whole, everybody succeeded in summoning a corporeal Patronus, save Neville, but it remained to be seen whether they would be able to do it when a Dementor attacked.

Suddenly, the training of all was interrupted by the impromptu arrival of a house elf, one of Harry's fans, Dobby, who came to warn them of the imminent arrival of Umbridge. They had been betrayed. Quickly Harry and the others began to evacuate the group as Edward rushed over the sheet containing the names of all the members and made it disappear with a wave of his wand. All that remained was to make sure that the traitor did not reveal anything about the group. Ed hoped Hermione's curse would prove effective. He removed the defense libraries and Black Magic detection instruments. By the time he had finished, there was no one left in the room other than the trio and himself. It was at this moment that Umbridge and her cronies appeared.

"Look at this. I was told that there was an illegal group meeting here, conspiring against me."

"As you can see," Hermione said in a carefully nonchalant tone, "This is not a group, association, club or other organization, but simply a meeting of friends, completely casual and absolutely not regular and therefore outside the scope of Educational Decree No. 24. "

"I don't think there's anything we can be blamed for," Ron chuckled, knowing that the evidence had disappeared.

"You, search this room," Umbridge shrieked at the few Slytherin pupils who had escorted her; then, addressing the four students, "You will follow me to the Director's office."

A few minutes later they were all gathered in Dumbledore's office with Fudge, two Aurors, including a member of the Order, and the traitor who had sold them out. Her face was now a rather impressive testimony to Hermione's talents in matters of evil. A few seconds later, Edward saw Kingsley cast a discreet spell on the poor girl. Her eyes were emptied of expression, an unmistakable sign of an obliviation. It was a fine job, obviously, because during the attempted interrogation there was no accusation as to a plan to develop a clandestine Defense against the Dark Arts class. So there was no way to prove their guilt.

Unfortunately, even the lack of evidence was not enough to convince Fudge of Dumbledore's innocence: for months he had been looking for a pretext to sack the old wizard and he obviously had no intention of worrying about something as insignificant as the justice of a judicial proceeding. The support of Lucius Malfoy and his connections would suffice to "convince" recalcitrant members of the board of directors of the need to dismiss the headmaster and replace him with someone more in line with the views of the Ministry. As for the public opinion, Fudge could perfectly control it thanks to the Daily Prophet, which mostly belonged to the Ministry: some accusations of treason, a speedy trial, and the old man would be spending his sentence in Azkaban.

It sometimes amazed Ed how naive people could be…

Everyone could see where the conversation was going and Dumbledore must have known it too, given the almost mischievous and falsely understanding light in his eyes. He must have had a trick up his sleeve. He waited patiently for Fudge to properly formulate the accusation of treason, which took a little time, as the ridiculous sorcerer seemed to choke with joy and pretension at the idea of getting rid of the man he considered his political rival. At the moment he says "I arrest you!" In a pompous and almost theatrical voice, magic flared around him and a few seconds later all the agents of the ministry were knocked out by a surge of magic that earned an admiring whistle from Edward: He didn't always like the Headmaster of Hogwarts but he certainly did not lack for style. The old wizard nevertheless took the time to bid farewell by recommending Harry to continue his Occlumency lessons. Ed did not know if it was an effect of his imagination but he had the impression to distinguish a red glow in the eyes of his friend for a moment, to his great anxiety but fortunately it disappeared almost immediately.

A moment later the phoenix took off with his passenger, and the minister and his supporters regained consciousness under the falsely anxious eye of the occupants of the room. They were soon dismissed by Fudge. He left in a hurry to warn the media of the new changes he was planning and the flight of Dumbledore, a clear proof of his guilt. The group of students went downstairs, the three Gryffindors being barely pacified by Ed when he assured them it was not their fault and that the ministry had probably had this goal in mind for months.

The next day, a new decree informed everyone of Umbridge's promotion to Headmaster.

* * *

Translator's note: Fun fact- Ron's Patronus, a terrier, can be translated in French as 'a burrow'. Pretty clever, eh? Eh? Also, in the original, Neville doesn't get mentioned but he couldn't summon a Patronus in OotP, so I added that so it stuck with canon. If it turns out that I'm in the wrong on this, I can come back and fix it.

Feel free to review!


	19. Chapter 19

Hey everybody! I decided to post this a bit earlier than I planned, as sort of an apology, because, once again, this is going on semi-hiatus. College is fun but really work intensive, guys. I'm going to try to have chapter 20 done by Christmas; expect a preview of it sometime in November, though. Thanks for all your support!

* * *

Edward patiently awaited his turn in front of Umbridge's office, watched over by Filch whose birthday seemed to have come early, assuming he was capable of rejoicing. The trio of Gryffindors and himself had to be interviewed by the new Headmistress, no doubt to find out where Dumbledore was. Ron and Hermione seemed extremely nervous. The teenage alchemist pretended to be relaxed, whistling to annoy their chaperone.

Finally, Harry left the office. The dark-haired teen had a suspicious air around him. He sat down on the bench, unwilling to let his friends face this alone. (Plus, Fred and George had obviously planned "a great upheaval" so it was better to have an alibi and who better than Filch to provide it?)

Edward walked into the office, restraining himself from shuddering at the grotesque tea-service on the desk. Behind the desk was Umbridge, wearing her grating fake smile. Wearing the same hypocritical smile as Mustang when he licked his superior's boots, Ed quietly sat down. The short Inquisitor offered him milk in his tea (which he refused). This confirmed his suspicions that there was veritaserum in his drink, which he drank without any problem: first, he was insensitive to it; second, he had had to get supplies for it from Snape; third, Umbridge would notice if her plants got even more watered.

"Well, Mr. Elric, where is Dumbledore?" the hideous witch started.

"He didn't tell me," Ed replied in a neutral tone, "He still doesn't trust me."

"And what about the location of Sirius Black?" continued Umbridge.

"I never saw him and never talked to him," Edward lied.

"What a pity ...," inquired the inquisitor, her eyes glittering with greed, "Tell me, what is the secret that Nicholas Flamel has entrusted to you."

He had forgotten that. He was going to have to improvise, which could prove complicated when one was supposed to be under the influence of truth serum. He couldn't hesitate or show any emotion. This wasn't going to be easy.

"He told me that true immortality, in the end, was not the stone but the journey," Edward invented. "He didn't tell me anything about the composition of the stone or how to gain immortality."

The new Headmistress scowled and prepared to ask another question when a loud explosion sounded. The little witch hurried to open the door of her office and nearly got hit by a rocket that exploded with very inventive curses. The incapable director tried to make them disappear, but the ingenious designers seemed to have overcome this eventuality because the rockets redoubled their intensity, to the delight of the students. Ed took this opportunity to leave and went to join Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

The following classes were the most amusing of the year: it was impossible to work as the magic candles, the gigantic dragons and various creatures made of colored sparks invaded the classrooms. The professors seemed to have engaged in a sort of petty competition to know which of them could crack their new Headmistress by calling for help whenever a firework display interrupted the class. Edward was convinced that Snape had won the contest because of his display that pyrotechnic displays and potions did not mix ...

* * *

The next day, Harry and Edward went to their Occlumency class. The Boy-Who-Lived was in a bad mood because Voldemort had been able to take advantage of his sleeping to infiltrate his mind and make it enter virtually into a huge room of the Department of Mysteries. Moreover, he had finally quarreled with Cho. However, before Snape could start the lesson, Malfoy interrupted him to tell him that Montague had been found in the toilet, a little confused, forcing the Professor to leave quickly to rescue his pupil, leaving the two friends alone in the office, with the Pensieve.

Harry began to approach the spy's Pensieve, looking very tempted. Edward, who had been about to leave, realized what he was going to do and interrupted him: "Don't even think about it!"

"I'm sick of not being told anything about this damn war, Ed," the Boy-Who-Lived said decisively. "If there's any information to be found, that's where I'll find it."

"Shit, Harry. What if you find something and Voldemort pulls it out of your mind, everything the Order has been working for could be ruined!"

"I've gotten better and I'll be able to hide that," Harry defended himself.

"I doubt it. Anyway, you don't have the right to go and spy on his memories like that," Edward said.

"But Snape can spy on mine?" exclaimed the wizard, furiously.

"What if he comes in?" asked the Ravenclaw, who was determined to prevent his friend from finding any secrets that would hurt him.

"You can keep watch." Harry said, plunging his hand into the pensieve before the alchemist could stop him.

"You stubborn idiot!" Ed groaned.

But knowing that he no longer had a choice, he anxiously watched the corridor while cursing the Gryffindor unable to see the big picture. What would happen if Snape noticed his intrusion, if he could tell? The relationship between those two was going to get worse, it was almost certain. And he did not even want to think about what would happen if Harry came across memories of Snape's feelings about Harry's mother, it could be catastrophic! He was terribly nervous, attentive to the slightest noise. He jumped when he heard footsteps coming from the bottom of the corridor. Without waiting any longer, he seized Harry by the nape of his neck and pulled him away from the Pensieve. Ed threw the Cloak over the both of them and backed into a corner. Snape quickly walked into his office and stared at his pensieve, frowning at it, looking around to make sure they were gone before he started to get his memories back. Then, after scrutinizing the room again, he carefully packed the container into his closet before leaving the room, closing his office with all sorts of spells, trapping the two boys inside.

Harry turned pale, wondering what they were going to do to get out and tried, in vain, an opening charm, with no result. The only solution he could think of was to call for help and get caught red-handed, and he was certain that the consequences of that would be disastrous. He turned to Edward, who had examined the room in search of an unsuccessful outcome: the door to the potions classroom was very much closed, too. On the other hand, there was another way: no other witnesses and no painting to spy on them ... it could work.

"I know a spell that could get us out of here," Edward said gravely. "But I can't show anyone it. If you want to get out, you will have to solemnly promise me not to watch anything I'm about to do."

"Er, okay." said Harry, confused. Ed glared a bit: "I promise."

"Alright. Turn around, it'll only take a few seconds."

Harry heard a clapping followed by a slight earthquake. When he turned, he saw that an arch had appeared in the wall, allowing them to go out into the corridor, which, luckily, at that hour, was deserted. He had to turn his back again as Ed turned the wall back to stunned, he followed Edward, who was rapidly leaving the Slytherin territory.

"How did you do that ?" The dark-haired wizard asked.

"I can't tell you anything," Edward said categorically, "and anyways, it was your fault we ended up in that situation, and you owe me an explanation. After all, I kept watch, I prevented you from getting caught, and I managed to get us out of there," he added seriously, his eyes demanding explanations.

Harry flushed, looking very embarrassed and avoided his friend's gaze, then reluctantly he agreed to answer the Ravenclaw's question: "I saw my father and Sirius attacking Snape, casting spells at him, humiliating him in public, and hanging him by the feet. My mother tried to rescue him, and he called her a Mudblood."

"I see," said Edward, lost in thought.

"I guess Snape and you were right, about Sirius ... and even my father ... He was really ..." Harry whispered, lowering his head.

"I didn't know your father, Harry" sighed the Ravenclaw. "But I know one thing: people change, your father and your godfather may have been idiots when they were younger, they certainly did things they shouldn't be proud of, but your father fought against Voldemort, he sacrificed himself to protect you and that kind of thing counts ... "

"Thanks… It looks like only my mother was in the right. But then why insult my mother when she was just trying to help!" Harry spat passionately.

"I don't know," Edward replied, "Maybe it was because he was angry and didn't think."

He refrained from saying that if his hypothesis were true, this insult was certainly the thing Snape had regretted his whole life.

"And he was in Slytherin ... that kind of insult is common, down there," the Boy-Who-Lived grumbled.

"Does he ever call anyone that now?"

"No… he treats me like I'm arrogant, Hermione like she's a know-it-all, and Neville like he's completely useless. But he is supposed to be a teacher."

"That's true… good night. Practice your Occlumency and avoid reusing those memories of your mother, otherwise he will know that you snooped in his Pensieve."

For almost an hour, Harry sank into his thoughts in the common room, reflecting on his father, and Sirius. Then he focused his attention on Edward's incredible magic. He knew he had promised Ed that he wouldn't reveal anything he'd seen, but if he did not reveal his name, it might work ... So he turned to the one person he knew who knew everything about magic to try and find the answer to his question.

"Hermione, do you know a spell that would create a door in a wall?"

"What type of door?" Hermione asked, interrupting her Arithmancy homework.

"Not really a door, more like an arch, made of stone, with gargoyles," the Gryffindor described without going into details.

"Did you hear the incantation?" The witch asked him, very interested in the details.

"No, he didn't say anything."

"So, silent casting or wandless magic," Hermione deduced, looking pensive. "It is very impressive in any case: we don't learn to cast silently until sixth year and wandless magic is very complex and very difficult. Only powerful sorcerers can master it, but to make a door appear without saying anything... that requires immense power. "

"Then he made it disappear, but I could not see how he did it," said the young wizard.

"You mean he did it at Hogwarts? When was it? A few days ago, when Professor Dumbledore was still here?" Hermione replied, a little agitated.

"It wasn't Dumbledore," Harry replied uncomfortably, feeling nervous.

"But that's impossible," the young witch exclaimed. "Harry, Hogwarts: A History, says that only the Headmaster of Hogwarts is entitled to change the structure of the castle. Normally, the magic of the structure should prevent unwanted changes and ..."

She broke off.

"It's Edward Elric, is not it?"

"How did you ..." Harry began before he interrupted himself; he had given himself away.

"Harry, who do we know who has fairly powerful magic and who uses it in a special way? In addition, you two go to your Occlumency lessons together. It's a logical deduction. In any case, it is incredible that he could accomplish that. I'm going to go and ask him tomorrow ... "

"I promised not to say anything and I've already broken my promise," Harry refused, regretting that he had begun the discussion.

"I'll go to the library to find out how he did it," Hermione decided, hating that she did not have the full story.

"Will you tell me when you find the answer?" asked the Gryffindor.

"Of course."

* * *

The following Monday, Harry practically walked backwards to his lesson of Occlumency, anxious that Snape might have discovered his intrusion into the Pensieve. Edward seemed as uncomfortable as he was even if he tried not to show it.

That night, the lesson was particularly harsh for Harry: Snape had launched particularly violent attacks and it had almost broken his emotional shield. He had succeeded in protecting the memory of his espionage, but he had come out exhausted. Edward finally intervened and took over. Harry did not know what the teacher could have seen in his friend's mind: it always ended with Snape dismissing him right afterwards and asking Ed to stay. Harry hastily left the room, casting an apologetic look at the Ravenclaw and wondering what was going to happen to him.

Edward stared at the potion teacher silently. He had just voluntarily shown a sequence of images, including Harry's disillusionment with his father and godfather. It was a more than risky initiative but in any case, Snape knew that they had seen his memories so it could hardly make things worse, only confirm what he already knew. He knew that the teacher would certainly be mad with rage after this confirmation but he could at least try to calm his fury by showing that Harry condemned the acts of his father and godfather, his disappointment over their actions. He had to show that his friend, whatever Snape thought, was not his father.

For a brief moment, Edward told himself that he was completely crazy to seek to improve such an execrable relationship between the two wizards, especially since he was the last one who could give lessons in psychology concerning these ties. Snape glared at him from across the desk. He seemed to be wondering whether he should turn Ed into potion ingredients now or wait to forge a solid alibi... Finally, the professor decided to speak, hardly holding back his rage:

"So you admit that you deliberately violated my instructions to leave and spied on my memories by rummaging through my Pensieve? Or let me rephrase that. Potter was the one who had this brilliant idea, wasn't he?"

"He shouldn't have done that; I'm not going to deny that," said Edward in a decisive tone. "But whether you like it or not, he considers himself involved in your war, He is involved, as far as I can judge, and it is incredibly frustrating under these conditions not to know what is going on. This doesn't excuse his gesture, but you must admit that there are reasons behind it... "

"I don't think so," Snape said in a shrill voice. "Potter is just an arrogant boy like his father, who feels he has a right to everything, even to what he's been told he can't."

"I know that he isn't like that, professor," the Ravenclaw challenged. "He was really shocked by what his father had done and he did not approve of what he did. He was ashamed of their actions, and if you really wanted to know, he'd already begun to question his godfather's actions at the Shrieking Shack," Ed said, forgetting to mention that he was largely responsible for this awareness.

"You would have me believe that ..." the Potions Master began.

"I don't want to make you believe anything," Edward said, very upset, "but you have to understand that Harry is not his father! He can think differently and not support the same things as he did. Don't you see that Harry is a person distinct from his parents? Since I joined this world, I can tell that you all can't see that he is his own person. Most wizards recognize Harry as three things: his father's face, his mother's eyes, and the scar on his forehead, and it's even worse with you!"

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Elric?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously low.

"You don't hate Harry only because he is James' son, you also hate him because he is the child of the man you hated and the woman you-"

Edward did not have time to finish his sentence because the professor cast a vicious spell at him that he barely had time to dodge. He understood at that moment that he had gone too far, that he shouldn't have said that. He paled a little, certain now that he would end up in one of the jars in the teacher's ingredient cabinet. The latter was livid and stared at him as if contemplating an extremely dangerous monster which he had to kill on the spot. Edward swallowed slowly, remaining in the guarded position that he had instinctively adopted: he knew that unless he appealed to his alchemy, his secret weapon, he could never beat Voldemort's former supporter using magic. The spy still stared at him like he was on the brink of hexing him, the hand holding his wand trembling with anger. Finally, he managed to calm himself enough to regain control of his emotions and to ask in a cold voice:

"How did you know?

"By deduction. When Harry told me that he used his mother's memory to repel you, I made the connection between the facts. I didn't tell him what it meant," Edward quickly added, staring straight into Snape's eyes.

"If you tell him, I will arrange to make sure that the remains of your wretched body are never found again, Elric," said the professor in a cold, even tone, which sent shivers down Edward's spine: He was not joking.

"Promise, Professor," whispered the alchemist, white as a linen, then, resuming, he added, "But in that case, you'll be able to put aside your personal feelings about Harry?"

"You dare to blackmail me, Elric?" asked the former Death Eater.

"You are a Slytherin, cunning and blackmail are just like any other means to achieve one's ends," said the boy, "but I am not a Slytherin, and in any case, whatever your decision, I will not say anything about your secret, professor, I solemnly swear, but at least give Harry the right to be his own person, distinct from his parents. "

"I do not guarantee you anything, but I might be if you do something for me," the professor said. "You will use Legilimency on Potter while I supervise."

Edward exclaimed, "No way! I won't try and read a friend's mind. Besides, I'm not a trained Legilimens and I'm certainly not on your level."

"I have nothing to do with your feelings, Elric," said the Potions Master brusquely. "You will learn legilimency because you are gifted and it would be a waste not to nurture this talent. Yet, although you have a manifest gift for the magic of the spirit, Elric, you hate the very idea of violating a person's mind. I confess that it is a rare disposition: to possess power without desire or even envy. To exercise it, it will give you a certain impartiality and moreover it will be exactly the punishment that suits you. Consider this a rematch. You can leave." the professor said, pointing to the door.

Edward, realizing that he would not have a choice and that the discussion stopped there, took his leave with an angry glance at the professor. He walked slowly to the Gryffindor tower to give the news to Harry, wondering how he was going to tell him that, while thinking back to the conversation that had just taken place. Snape had cornered him too well: he had understood during his only attempt that he was reluctant to enter by force into the thoughts of others. It was something Edward could not bear: the feeling of disgust that weighed on his soul when he did it, his disgust at the idea of doing it so easily... He never thought he would have to do like what he had done with Pride, forcing his way into someone else's mind and soul. However, Ed had no choice: if the Occlumency lessons ceased, he doubted that Harry would continue his efforts for very long and he clearly needed it at all costs. Now he was going to have to explain to his friend why he would be forced to search his thoughts twice a week.

* * *

Two days later, the two teens climbed up from the dungeons, a little shaken by the lesson and rattling together.

"I get the impression that when you enter my mind, you come in like a galloping horse, you find what you want and then you leave..." Harry grumbled, rubbing his temples.

"At least, you're warned of my arrival," Edward sighed, trying to sort through his memories and those that did not belong to him.

"Snape was practically civil. He even said goodnight," the Gryffindor remarked.

"He's interested in the trouble I'm going to," Ed mumbled under his breath.

"Where are you going now?" Harry asked, seeing him head for the classrooms.

"I have an appointment with McGonagall and Professor Flitwick to see if I'll be able to pass the OWLs along with you guys as a free agent," Edward replied.

"Does that mean that if you pass, you'll be in sixth year with us next year?" Harry asked him.

"I hope so," said the Ravenclaw, knocking at the door.

He entered the room where Professors Flitwick and McGonagall awaited him.

"Good evening, Mr. Elric," the Deputy Headmistress began, "I received your letter asking for permission to sit the OWLs this year. Normally, one would have to go before a board of the four Heads of Houses and the Headmaster himself, but in view of the lack of impartiality of the present Headmistress, we will abstain... If we accept you as ready, you will earn a paper signed by Dumbledore a few days before his departure which will validate your participation. "

"Thank you very much," said Edward, bowing.

"Professor Snape is very busy but he left a note about your results. His exact words were, as I recall, _'For once, it seems that there is a pupil a little less incapable than the others, enough to be at least competent.'_ Professor Sprout has said that if you spends a few hours a week doing some practical work with her, she approves. Professor Flitwick?"

"Mr. Elric is already familiar with fifth year spells, and I would not be surprised if you've started sixth year material," said Professor Flitwick, addressing Edward, who nodded.

"Your material Transfigurations are fantastic, Mr. Elric," said the Gryffindor Head, adding, regretfully, "but I cannot pass you by until you have agreed to overcome your discomfort about animal Transfiguration."

"I see," the Ravenclaw murmured.

"If you managed to disparate this rabbit, Mr. Elric," said the strict teacher, taking the animal out of a hutch, "I know you will get brilliant notes at the OWLS, I know."

"What I do not understand, Professor, is what exactly happens to these animals and why we have to do this," Edward murmured, looking at his wand.

"Philosophically, in magic, it is said that the missing objects go into Non-Being, that is to say..."

"... in the All," Edward finished, very familiar with this notion.

"If you understand, in this case, I ask you to try," McGonagall said.

Edward raised his wand and thought what he was going to do. To kill an animal when one was not in danger of death or when one was not going to eat it was unnecessarily cruel, according to him. You could just turn a simple object into something you wanted instead of taking a life, it was more ethical. But he wanted to go into sixth year next year. He therefore concentrated on what he wanted to do exactly, hoping that his hypothesis he had formulated weeks ago would work. A second later, the rabbit had disappeared under Edward's bitter gaze. He ignored the old professor's congratulations as she informed him that he would have his permission tomorrow. The blond teen took his leave and headed for the Ravenclaw Tower. His mood lightened only when he saw that Luna waited by the door, smiling with her usual dreamy air, a white rabbit carefully nested in her arms.

* * *

Original author's note: Well, as you can see, the story takes a different turn when Harry has Ed with him to do something like keep watch... The relationship between Snape and Harry will change in this fic, though it will never be anything close to warm camaraderie. Nevertheless, you will be able to perceive this progress later.

* * *

Translator's note: Maybe the real immortality was the friends we made along the way! Other than that, no.


	20. Chapter 20

Hi! ...sorry. I thought I had posted this last night, for the new year, but I guess I didn't do it right. So, here's chapter 20! I won't really make any promises about when the next ones will come out, but we have only four more chapters left (and a sequel). I'm going to try to get this fic at least done by July. I hope you all have a good year!

* * *

The end of the April holidays were approaching. For many students, this was a chance to relax. On the other hand, the unfortunates who were going to have to sit their O.W.L.S and their N.E.W.T.S in the coming days had been forced to cram five years of curriculum into a matter of weeks.

Nevertheless, a number of these students took advantage of the spring break to study on the castle grounds. Among them was the Gryffindor trio and Edward, who, unlike his friends, had not benefited from five years of schooling to gather all this knowledge and therefore had to work double time to absorb the whole program. The young Ravenclaw had been grilled thoroughly on every subject by Hermione, who wanted to make sure that he passed with the best possible results. The least you could say was that she wasn't impressed by his results in some subjects such as History of Magic or Astronomy.

Ed had contemptuously renounced learning any important dates or names, reasoning that this information would be useless anyways. If they at least learned how Wizarding society had come to be the way it is, maybe the class would be interesting, but for now Ed was not having it. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger did not share his opinion and persisted in telling him that he must at least try:

"Edward, I have already told you, it wasn't Rodrigo the Foul Mouthed who declared the third revolt of the Goblins in the fourteenth century, it was Arnok the Vicious!"

"Hermione, you don't need to get so upset," Edward said, re-reading his book "1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi" to determine how the magical potential of each ingredient could affect the magical effects of a potion.

"But history is important, Edward," Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "It is from this discipline that we draw lessons for the present and ..."

"Not like the way Binns teaches it," Edward groaned, noting an equation in his book. "It's just meaningless rote memorization, so it's not interesting."

"But if you don't learn it, you'll get bad marks and-" the young witch began to argue.

"In that case, Hermione, he'll just get a T and can give it up" Ron noted snarkily while underlining a definition of metamorphosis.

"It's an important class!" protested the Gryffindor.

"Hermione, for you, all the classes matter, finally, except divination ..." Harry pointed out, repeating the list of second-year spells.

"Hermione, I am quite willing to recognize the importance of history in school education, but not that of Binns' class. His idea of history dates back to the last century and the Muggles have gone beyond that beyond that for the past half a century!" said Edward, appealing to his knowledge from the Gate to argue his point of view.

"I'm wondering how you know all this while not remembering anything about your past life ..." Harry sighed as he passed the list of third-year spells.

"A real mystery," muttered the alchemist, who wasn't sure whether he should thank or curse the Truth for having given him the level of an academic in several disciplines.

"If history at Hogwarts bores you so much, you could try to reform it by entering the ministry," Ron pointed out, reading a pamphlet.

"Except for me," said Edward, solving his equation with a satisfied smile, "Wizards are way too stuck in their ways to change for a new model, especially a Muggle one."

"What would you like to do, Ed?" Harry asked curiously, "I'd like to become Auror, someone who fights Dark wizards."

Edward paused in his work: he had never really thought about it himself, even when he was in Amestris. He had too often lived from day to day, his only goal to return Alphonse to his own body and beat the Homunculi. He had never taken time to think about what the future might be after that. He would always be an alchemist, that much was certain: for him, alchemy had always been part of his life and he had never thought he could do anything else, except continue to learn more and more. Perhaps he would have gone on a trip to the west or east to discover other forms of alchemy, especially the alkahestry used by the people of Xing. Even if he had sacrificed his ability to transmute, he would have pursued his quest for knowledge and knowledge all his life.

But here... he did not know how long it would take to defeat Voldemort, but it could very well take years and during that time he would need to earn a living. He had never thought of staying here and making plans for the future because that would have meant that he was settling there forever, abandoning his friends, his brother, Winry and he could never do that. Nevertheless, his friends of this world were waiting for his answer so he said vaguely:

"Maybe a researcher? Or whatever the wizarding equivalent is."

"I would like to work within the Ministry to develop relationships between wizards and house elves."

Hermione's friends raised their eyes to heaven, while Edward wished her much courage. As they walked back to their respective common rooms, Harry took his friend apart to tell him about a project he had been working on for several days: he wanted to contact his godfather to get an explanation for his actions against Snape. Apparently, Fred and George had planned a diversion on Monday and he had a knife that could allow him to force locks. Knowing that he would do it with or without him, Edward agreed to be his accomplice without too much difficulty.

* * *

The next day, Edward quietly waited for Harry, knowing that he had to go to his career advice appointment first. He himself had been allowed to do so this morning with his head of house. Unfortunately, Umbridge had heard of it, probably thanks to her Inquisitor squad, and had interfered in the conversation, mostly to protest that he had no right to take part in an exam usually reserved for fifth years. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick had taken care to send a letter to the examiners to formalize Edward's situation, so she did not have a say. The interruption had meant it was impossible for Edward to learn more about his hypothetical future trade because of the invasive interventions of the infamous little witch who constantly denigrated his career choices. He hoped Harry wouldn't have to endure this ...

But judging by Harry's vexed look, it had been the case and the young Ravenclaw decided not to ask him about his afternoon. It took only a few seconds to force the door and Edward stood near the stairs to watch for a possible intruder. He regretted not being on the fifth floor of the east wing to see Fred and George throwing their mysterious green substance in the corridor... He smiled, very pleased when he heard a screech and screams of fright from above, then the screams of old Filch's rage. When he heard him coming down, Ed walked into the office and quickly shook Harry, who covered them just in time with his cloak of came in, breathless, to look for whips. Knowing Fred and George, they certainly had a Plan B in case of the unforeseen, and it would probably be funny too...

Dragging Harry along with him, Ed hurried down the hall, still taking the time to ask Harry how it had happened. Apparently Sirius had made excuses about youth, that kind of thing, but this time Harry had not let him go on, to the point that it had almost degenerated into a dispute between the godfather and the godson, which had only been even somewhat mediated by Remus. Lupin seemed to be the only one to understand that the Boy-Who-Lived wanted serious answers. Harry was disappointed in the man he saw as a role model and he did not really want to talk about it for now: he might not like Snape, but he would never come up with the idea of humiliating someone because of their existence, not even Malfoy, let alone almost kill him.

Harry soon interrupted his thoughts when he saw the crowd gathered in the hall with Fred and George facing the High Inquisitor, with the characteristic look of the people who has been caught red-handed. However, they did not really look worried and replied with banter and a sense of humor that provoked the laughter of the students' assembly at the expense of the inquisitorial authority. From what Harry could understand, the twins had decided to leave their mark on Hogwarts by creating a swamp in one of the corridors... The arrival of Filch, who had brought his whips and who seemed crazed with joy at the idea of seeing his dearest wish fulfilled, cooled the students somewhat. Fred and George quickly showed that they had no intention of letting themselves be caught, summoning their brooms to flee the tyranny of Umbridge and their "just" punishment, to the cheers of the students of Hogwarts (and some of the teachers, too).

* * *

Unfortunately, even this joyful episode was not enough to alleviate the amount of studying they had to do, even though his forced absence from Quidditch training sessions allowed Harry to have more time to give to his school work. This did not really console him. The last game of the year against Ravenclaw was fast approaching and the former Seeker was annoyed at not being able to participate even though Ginny was more than talented. When the last weekend of May came and the day of the final arrived, he had to head for the Gryffindor stands instead of the cloakroom under the haughty gaze of Umbridge.

But it turned out that he wouldn't be attending this last match because Hagrid came to fetch him, at the same time revealing to Hermione the secret he had been hiding and telling her that they might be able to help him. As they entered the forest, Harry had a very bad feeling (the fruit of his previous excursions in this sinister place) and stood on his guard, wand in hand, attentive to the slightest noise, watching for suspicious beasts. Hermione and he finally got into a kind of clearing and he almost began to relax when he heard a howl and a second later, the two Gryffindors saw Edward miraculously land on his feet after an acrobatic flip that was worthy of a circus show . The young Ravenclaw scowled like a mastiff and glared at a sheepish Hagrid.

"Edward, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked in a rather timid tone, wondering what had pissed the teen off.

"I'm teaching!" Ed said in an incisive and unusually biting tone.

"You teach what, to whom?" Harry asked, his wand still in his hand.

"To whom? To somebody's little brother," Edward growled, glancing at Hagrid, who seemed to shrink before the furious look of the much smaller student.

"Hagrid's brother... My God, Hagrid, do not tell me you brought one here?!" Hermione exclaimed madly.

"Bring back what?" Harry asked, his eyes closed, praying that it was not what he thought.

"A giant," the girl.

"Good deduction," Ed said, looking at the dark mass sitting in a corner, attentive to its slightest movements.

"Since when has there been a giant in the Forbidden Forest, Edward?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Since his arrival here," revealed the Ravenclaw, quickly avoiding a huge hand.

"Since November, then," Harry deduced before questioning him again: "How do you know him?"

"Edward comes here several times a week to play with the animals in the forest," Hagrid revealed with a delighted smile. Inside, Harry was thinking that the way Hagrid was talking about it he would have sworn that the forest was only inhabited by gentle birds and innocuous little bunnies and not by giant spiders or goblins thirsty for blood ...

"Edward comes here a couple of times a week," Hermione repeated, stunned. "Edward, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden!"

"I would never have guessed," Ed said sarcastically as he stepped aside to avoid a finger bigger than him.

"What are you doing here?!" She exclaimed angrily.

"I'm not patient enough to sit around the castle and there are some really cool places in here."

"Hermione, you can not stop him from doing what he wants, so ..." Harry sighed, not having any illusions, then turned to Hagrid: "Why are we here, Hagrid? If it's about teaching your brother to speak, I'm sure Ed is doing very well," he said, concealing a smile as he saw the furious glance from his friend as the blond dodged an enormous arm.

"Harry, just remember: revenge is a dish best served cold..." the Ravenclaw snarled vindictively.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied with a small smirk: he knew how to take Ed now. At least, he hoped.

"Good," stammered Hagrid, a bit embarrassed before continuing: Ed is doing well but I think Grawp should meet other people, that he socialize more," he said.

"Ah, Grawp, is that his name?" Hermione asked hesitantly, then shrieked as she saw an enormous hand move towards her.

"No, Grawp, bad!" Said the groundskeeper, clapping his hands vigorously to make the giant look at him. "It's Hermione, huh ... we're going to call her Hermy!" Hagrid turned and said to the young witch, "Hermy, it's less complicated for him, he calls Edward Eddy, too."

"Wonderful," the young witch mumbled before taking her courage in both hands and addressing the six-meter giant: "Hi, Grawp."

"Good!" exclaimed Hagrid, delighted. He and Ed then had to block the hand that was heading towards the two Gryffindors.

Once the introductions had been made (even if the two Gryffindors were convinced that Grawp hadn't heard anything), they were able to turn back, still escorted by Hagrid, who was chatting happily with Edward without noticing his ill mood. During their conversation, Harry and Hermione argued over what they were going to do: none of them really wanted to go back to Hagrid's younger brother, even if they liked the half giant. They interrupted their discussion when they saw the herd of centaurs watching them attentively. While Hagrid chatted with them, Ed approached the two wizards, who had been made very nervous by the archers. "You don't need to worry, there's just some in-fighting in the herd. Some of them are not happy that Firenze is teaching."

"Shouldn't we be worried, then?" murmured Hermione, pale.

"They don't blame the students, and they've told me I don't have to worry about them."

"We really need to have a discussion about what you've been doing here ..." Harry said, staring at Ed as they passed between the centaurs who had finally agreed to let them pass.

"I guess I have no choice ..." Edward sighed as they came in sight of the castle.

"We really should talk," Hermione began, before stopping as Ronald Weasley was carried past by the cheering Gryffindors.

The discussion was going to have to wait until Sunday: this evening would be dedicated to the party to celebrate the victorious Gryffindor Keeper...

* * *

The next day they all found themselves near the lake, after Ron had been made aware of their expedition the day before. Edward had just been bombarded with questions by Hermione and the two boys and tried to respond as best he could:

"So, to summarize: yes, I've been hanging out in the Forbidden Forest since the beginning of the year; no, nothing ever happened to me except minor wounds. There are more bugs like the giant spiders in there and I could even make you a fairly complete list if you wish. I'm walking there because I'm bored, Hermione, and if you really want to know, I'm not the only one who does that."

"You could get yourself expelled, Ed!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Only if you shout it from the rooftops, Hermione," the Ravenclaw retorted, adding, "Anyway, I'm sure that if Umbridge finds out, all she would do is hope that I get eaten by one of the creatures, anyways..."

"You go there to fight, right?" Harry asked, suddenly understanding the motives of his friend.

"Among other things," the young boy admitted, with a small smile, "I can hardly completely let loose against the Support Course members, right? I also come here to talk with the centaurs; they're not bad company when they're in a good mood. And the creatures of the forest have become smart enough to avoid me during my walks, so it's pretty quiet."

"You're still completely crazy," Hermione said.

"It doesn't matter, anyway, you can't stop me. And I thought we had exams coming up?" Edward asked innocently, skilfully switching the subject.

As expected, this was enough to stop Hermione's scolding. The group turned back to their studies, to the great satisfaction of Edward. The latter had had a lot of fun during the past few days in observing the black market that was invading the whole castle at the approach of the tests and he could not help sighing at the idiocy of those who chose to resort to such methods. Luckily, the Ravenclaws, known as more intelligent house, were less likely to be the target of the small-time scam artists who sought to sell them products so they could increase their ability to concentrate or memorize. This did not prevent an especially persistent idiot from wanting to sell him an elixir: the unfortunate seller had "missed" a step and he and his products had spread out on the ground, right in front of Snape. That had been a great laugh.

He himself studied at least as much as when he had for the State Alchemist exam, but in a more calm and methodical manner. At the time, he had been afraid of not being accepted and had worked hard to achieve his goal. Today he knew that he would have been taken only with his demonstration of alchemy without a circle of transmutation since the purpose of the examination was precisely to recruit such alchemists... If he had known, he would have been much less worried... Overall, he did not worry too much about magic: he mastered the theory better than the 7th years and even though he was still too slow, he could now cast spells that he knew well without having to deconstruct the process. He figured he would get pretty good marks, but he didn't really invest himself too much. Ed didn't plan on spending too much time in this world anyway. Ed quietly left, smiling to himself at the sight of Hermione grilling Ron and Harry.

* * *

A week later, he was still calm, even knowing that his exams were starting tomorrow. Around him, all the fifth and seventh-year pupils seemed completely absorbed by completely useless last minute cramming. Knowing perfectly that studying would only make him more upset, he left for the direction of his dorm, ready to have a good night's rest, ignoring under the angry looks of the other Ravenclaws who seemed to blame him for taking the exams lightly.

The next morning he settled at the table and prepared to show his knowledge, already knowing that he was going to write magical theories well advanced in relation to his supposed level. He used all the time at his disposal, unwilling to squander his work by being too impatient. The practical examination took place in the afternoon.

Edward had absolutely no problem with the formulas because in reality the majority of them were of no use other than to give the impression to the young wizards that they were carefully dispensing the amount of magic they used. However, this was not always the case: he had been able to discover on some excursions to the Restricted Section that very old spells relied much more on the words and on their meaning: Avada Kedavra had an Aramaic origin with a meaning of destruction and fear, especially if it were converted into alchemical equations. However, no fifth year questions were on that level.

Suddenly, Edward had to be careful to concentrate on both the scientific way the spell worked and on the amount of magic to be put through his wand. Difficult but nothing insurmountable. So he executed his spells perfectly and his examiner, a very old little wizard, reproached him only for a little slowness, which would not have too great impact on his marks, according to him.

Tuesday was devoted to Transfiguration, and again, there was no difficulty with the theoretical part. The practical part was more delicate because Edward had to make it seem he had performed metamorphosis on the living and make sure that Mrs. Marchbanks did not realize that he hadn't really transformed his iguana into a suitcase but that he simply "transferred" mass to invoke a suitcase. This little issue cost him a lot of energy but allowed him to maintain his principles.

Botany did not present any major difficulty: he knew the theory by heart and in practice, apart from the moment when he was sprayed with spores from a poisonous mushroom Crabbe was occupied with, he thought he had done honorably, even if his sneeze had almost been fatal to him because of the Venomous Tentacula he was working with at the time.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts was a success especially for the practical part: because he didn't have to cast spells quickly, he could use his usually methods. For writing, he may have made a mistake about a good reaction to have during an attack (he had argued in favor of the immediate neutralization of the aggressor) but it was only a question about what he thought would be a good reaction, and with a little luck, the examiners did not follow the ministerial instructions.

Ancient Runes were fun and he knew that he would certainly have good marks. This did not prevent him from urging Hermione to cease lamenting about a mistranslation, seeing that some students looked at her with great exasperation.

On the weekend he devoted himself to studying Arithmancy and Potions, which he found to be much more interesting for the intellectual complexity they aroused. Everyone in the Gryffindor trio seemed dead and Edward had not had the courage to ask Harry to attend the Occlumency sessions. He himself did not have much energy to do legilimency and if he could avoid it, then he wasn't going to complain.

The beginning of the week was trying: Edward had been able to prepare his Strength Potion perfectly and to answer all his questions properly but at least he knew that his tests were almost finished: he had no intention of reviewing his tests, rather choosing to devote his energies to astronomy which at least had the merit of allowing him to talk with the centaurs... He hoped to be able to continue potions classes next year, knowing that he had to get an O to be able to pursue his theories in the matter.

On Wednesday he wished Harry good luck for his Divination exam, advising him, only half joking, to predict that Umbridge would have a tragic accident and that there would soon be a change of minister... His words had at least lightened Harry's mood; he promised to copy his predictions... For his part, while the Boy-Who-Lived was undergoing his divination test, Ed devoted all his afternoon to memorizing the exact position of the stars at the time of his examination, knowing that it would allow him to finish his test faster and therefore go to bed earlier tonight.

At midnight he almost completed his recopied memory card when he and the other students witnessed the furtive attack on Hagrid's hut and the traitor shots on the Hogwarts sub-director by Umbridge and the Aurors. He watched, relieved, the heroic resistance of the Keeper of the Keys, remarkably resistant to spells, and witnessed his victorious flight. Their examiner was as shocked as they were by the scene they had just witnessed, to the point of treating the attackers of cowards. When Ed went to the Ravenclaw common room with the other students who were discussing the latest events, he already knew that no one was going to sleep much tonight.

The next day he felt very tired and Harry did not seem to be in a better state than he. Ed knew the next test was not going to help him stay awake. When the History of Magic exam came to pass, Edward contented himself with writing a simple note asking the examiners to teach the story differently, wrote a few dates which he considered truly essential for the understanding of the magical world, and took a nap, not even realizing that Harry was imitating him, plunging into an unnatural sleep. He was only awakened when he saw Harry fall from his chair, holding his forehead and realized that they had big problems ...

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Translator's notes: Fun fact: in French OWLS and NEWTS are BUSE (buzzard) and ASPIC (same thing in English: meat jelly stuff).


	21. Chapter 21

Hey everybody! I've finally figured out a reliable and faster system for my translations, so hopefully I will have the last three out relatively quickly, definitely before June. It helps that my French has been de-rusted, too. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 21

Edward was finally out of the class with the Gryffindor trio, no longer dealing with exam problems or rumors spread by those who had witnessed the Boy-Who-Lived's crisis. While escorting Harry, they listened anxiously as the dark haired teen talked about Sirius who, according to the boy, would be imprisoned in the Department of Mysteries. Knowing it was better to clarify this, Edward questioned his friend about what he had seen, whether the vision was real or whether it could have been created from scratch by Voldemort. Unfortunately, Harry was in a very unstable emotional state, unwilling to listen to reason and desiring nothing more than to make sure that Sirius was fine: Harry brushed Ed off, obsessed over what he had seen and not listening to Ravenclaw's arguments. Hermione herself had not been able to calm him down, but she had finally been able to suggest to the young wizard that he see Professor McGonagall, who could contact the Order.

The Gryffindor had finally accepted and gone to the infirmary to ask to speak to Professor McGonagall. But Madam Pomfrey informed them that the Deputy Headmaster had been transported to St. Mungo's after the attack the day before. Before Harry could restart his rantings on Sirius, Edward finally managed to be heard and proposed they consult the second member of the Order who everyone had forgotten: Professor Snape. Despite the obvious reluctance of Harry and Ron, Ed and Hermione forced them to head towards the Potions Master's office. But the group arrived at his office, they saw Malfoy and his minions were blocking the passage at the door. It was better not to draw attention to Snape's spying activities.

Without waiting, Harry turned back, refusing to waste more time waiting to see if Snape was available: he already had an idea of what he could do to find out Sirius' condition. Only, he thought, to carry out his idea, he was going to need a diversion to draw the attention of the High Inquisitor away from her office. The presence of Ginny, Neville and Luna, who arrived in time to offer help, allowed him to develop a plan. Edward would have much preferred that they had a more informed and strategic plan but they had no other solutions. Ed, regretting not being able to help Harry, stood guard in front of the door. He could not hear who Harry was talking to, but since the discussion seemed to drag on, he could tell that he was not talking to Sirius, otherwise he would have been reassured...

A sudden noise alerted the blond teen. He looked up to see Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Brigade approaching, frog-marching Neville, Luna and Ginny with them. This time, Ed did not hesitate and started bombarding his opponents with vicious spells, but Malfoy and Parkinson soon began using their hostages as human shields, the only way to force the young alchemist to surrender. Soon, the seven young students found themselves stuck in Umbridge's office, their arms immobilized by the members of the brigade. The Inquisitor, who seemed positively delighted, began her interrogation. Harry and Hermione tried desperately to deceive her, but she was visibly unconvinced by their lies because she summoned Professor Snape.

Edward could not help but admire the professor's acting abilities: even Harry seemed convinced that he was a turncoat, especially after his scornful response to his coded message. Seeing the suspicion on his friend's face, the young Ravenclaw nodded slightly to Malfoy and company. The Gryffindor finally understood his point of view: the Order's spy could hardly defend them in front of the children of notorious Death Eaters... Unfortunately, his departure also meant that Umbridge had free reign for more brutal (read:illegal) interrogation. Seeing the look of the vile woman, glowering sadistically, Edward was reminded of the Homunculi, Envy in particular. The boy realized that the situation would soon degenerate and sought to escape, anxious to preserve his cover in the face of such a threat.

The toadie was just waiting for that, obviously, and a moment later, a crimson spell hit him directly in front of the horrified eyes of members of the SC and the unhealthy fascination of some Slytherins (not all, thankfully). The pain was truly abominable, almost unbearable, as if each of Ed's nerves were set on edge. This reminded him of the pain caused by the installation or attachment of his automail and only the fact of having already known this pain prevented him from screaming like a madman. He trembled in every limb when the spell was lifted. When he raised his head, mind clouded by this torture, he saw contentment in the eyes of the infamous witch and knew she wanted to do it again.

Determined not to have to endure that again, Ed was about to clap his hands to start a transmutation, but was interrupted by Hermione's cry as she begged the Inquisitor to stop. The young witch then unwrapped an incredible story about a weapon that Dumbledore had hidden; Umbridge in her morbid paranoia, believed her immediately. She therefore prepared for an expedition into the Forbidden Forest with Harry and Hermione as guides. Eager to seize the weapon, but unwilling to see potential rivals like Malfoy get close, she decided not to bring the members of his brigade. But she also knew she had to have leverage over her two guides and her choice fell on Edward, who seemed already banged up. She didn't have any reason to worry: after all, with their wands that would remain in his office with the other hostages, and under guard, she had nothing to fear from fifth years...

However, Umbridge had not anticipated many things: firstly, that Edward was not as hurt as she believed. The young State Alchemist had fought with wounds pissing blood and several broken bones, a single torture spell was not going to put him in the ground. The second thing is that he could defend himself by just clapping his hands. His last advantage was that he knew the forest like the back of his hand, to the point that he had began signing directions to Hermione, who was turning regularly to him for help- it must be said that the young witch was well aware that he better knew the forest even she did... Now, Edward hesitated: should he take the awful woman to the Acromantulas or to Grawp?

In the end, it was the centaurs. Knowing that it was better to leave Umbridge responsible for offending them, he forbade his friends to say a word and even though Hermione seemed to be protesting, eager to explain the situation, she agreed to obey the young Ravenclaw. At the end of the "conversation" after which Umbridge insulted the centaurs by calling them animals and brutes, an arrow embedded itself in a tree one centimeter from her face, causing her to fight back with a spell. Understanding that this was going to escalate, Ed fell to the ground with the others and watched with some pleasure the forced departure of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, carried off by a herd of centaurs. Edward stood up muttering with a lot of satisfaction:

"Well done.."

"Have you brought that human here for that purpose, Edward Elric?" Magorian asked, frowning, while the other centaurs stared at them suspiciously.

"Not really, to be honest, I intended to lead her to either Grawp or to the giant spiders, it's just a coincidence that you were here first." Edward said in a detached voice.

"Ed!" Hermione exclaimed, with reproach in her voice.

"What?" protested the young Ravenclaw, "She used a torture spell and I'm sure she would have killed us afterwards to silence us!"

"It's not that! In any case," Hermione corrected, "How could we defend ourselves against the Acromantulas without a wand?"

"I would have found a way... and I wouldn't have killed her, just left her hanging just out of reach above spiders," laughed Edward, a dark glint in his eye.

"I see," said Magorian. "Get out of here and do not come back. Our tolerance is limited to humans."

"Uh, not to interrupt, but we have to find Sirius. Kreacher told me they had taken him, if we don't find him soon, he will be killed!" exclaimed Harry, who had just remembered his priorities.

"Simple question, wouldn't it be easier to return to the castle and see what Snape says?" Edward asked, trying to take the role of the calm and temperate boy he was not.

"Every minute counts! We must leave now!" cried the Boy-Who-Lived, desperate.

"So if I understand correctly, summarized the young alchemist, frowning, "You want to face Voldemort and many of his supporters alone, to find Sirius, who is, in theory, to the Department of Mysteries? You know, I'm the type to rush headlong into things, but even I know that's suicide!"

"You don't understand!" Harry shouted, seizing his friend by his collar, "It's my fault he's in danger! And the last thing I did was blame him and tell him he was no better than guys like Malfoy! If he died with that being the last thing he heard from me, I would regret it the rest of my life!"

"Maybe, but that's not a reason for you to charge on alone!"

"That's what we told him, too." Ron said, slightly out of breath. He was accompanied by the other former prisoners of Umbridge.

"That's right," Ginny chimed in while she handed out the remaining wands. "Seven heads are better than one."

"There's no way..." Harry began to refuse, unwilling to risk the lives of others.

"Either let us go with you, or I will knock you out," said Edward as an ultimatum, meeting the eyes of his friend.

"And how will we get there?" Hermione asked, pragmatic.

"We could use them," Luna suggested in a quiet voice, "Hagrid says they know how to find their way," she added, pointing at the thestrals.

"Okay, but ... there is still a problem," Ginny said hesitantly. "Edward, you have a fear of heights and if you can't see your horse..."

"I can see thestrals," declared the young Amestrian, "and I know how to ride a horse."

Without waiting, he proved his point by approaching a thestral and gently stroking its mane. Before he climbed on, Ed paused, before smiling and pulling out his wand. He aimed it carefully at his wizard robes, changing them into a familiar red cloak with a black Flamel on the back. If he was going to go into danger, he wanted to look good while he did. Then he climbed easily on the back of his mount: he came from Resembool, a small country town where everyone could ride a horse from a young age. A thestral was more skeletal but he knew them well. As for the problem of vertigo, he'd sooner trust an animal than an object enchanted with magic. The others soon followed suit, each perched on their thestral.

Edward's heart was in his throat when they took off but he grabbed the mane of the reptilian horse. He didn't look down... Sometimes he glanced to make sure they were going in the right direction, but that was all.

He wondered if he had done well to agree to help Harry and others walk into a trap: it was undoubtedly one, whether Sirius was there or not. Their opponents would no doubt be numerous and trained in deadly spells. Even if the members of the group were among the best of the Support Course and had been trained in all forms of ambush, they would be inferior both in number and in experience. However, he himself was a seasoned fighter who had a secret weapon: alchemy. Provided he hid it under his magic, he could use the element of surprise to his advantage.

He interrupted his thoughts when his skeleton horse plunged into the city of London, an immense network of sprawling lights, and after a very uncomfortable moment for the teen, he finally landed. They were in an dirty lane with garbage piled in a dumpster and a vandalized phone booth. Edward, who had never been here before, vaguely wondered how to access the Ministry and where he was... He resigned himself to follow Harry who made them all squeeze into the tiny booth. Crammed in like sardines, they slowly descended into the ground to reach the majestic hall of the Ministry. Nobody took the time to marvel at the scenery: they only noticed the absence of a guard on the premises, which was not a good sign. According to Edward's experience, there was always a guard in sensitive places.

The small group walked to the golden elevator, where they had a lot more space than in the previous one. Everyone was getting nervous, gripping their wands tight in their hands. They jumped almost in unison when the impersonal female voice said, without emotion, "Department of Mysteries." They left the car and went to the dark door that stood out against the bare wall of the corridor. Harry turned the handle and the door opened without any difficulty, to the extreme nervousness of the group. The small band entered and found themselves in a dark circular room in which it was virtually impossible to distinguish anything except a dozen closed doors. The walls seemed to be turning, though it could just be their minds playing tricks on them. Ron opened a door at random and they entered a dark room with a tub that seemed filled with a strange liquid in which floated... brains? Without thinking to hard about Luna's exclamations that they were aquavirius maggots, Ed leaned thoughtfully over the tank but finally had to join the others who had returned to the previous room.

"What do you think that was, Edward?" Hermione whispered, drawing a cross of fire on the door.

"Perhaps a study of thought or intelligence ... I do not believe that all those brains were of human origin in the tank..." Edward replied distractedly.

Since he had entered the Mystery Department and even the ministry, Ed had felt vaguely nauseated and nervous, as if he were plugged into an electric battery. A bit like when he first started trying to use magic and connected directly to the mainstream of the universe. He realized that he still had not solved the mystery of magic, he had put aside that problem when he had finally managed to cast spells correctly. But suddenly this puzzle had to remind him at the most inopportune moment: with such power, it would be difficult to focus on controlling his magic...

He looked up when they stopped turning and clenched his teeth as Harry opened the next door. From what he could sense, the energy came in and out especially through that door. He turned to his friends to warn them but before he could stop them, they had all entered and he had no choice but to follow them.

The first thing that caught his eye was the great arch that stood in the middle of the room. A series of benches seemed to surround it, like an ancient theater. But it was the huge arch that definitely caught his eye: it gave him the impression of being in front of the Gate. No, that was still inaccurate: it reminded him of the feeling of the Promised Day, at the exact moment of the eclipse, when the Gates of Earth and Heaven were opened and a huge energy swept across Amestris, using the sacrifices as channels... He suddenly understood what this was like: the famous Gate of this World that fed him with vital energy. He practically fell to the ground when he understood this: for the first time, he really saw the flow, he understood it: energy came out of the opening, invisible to the rest of the world, and other currents entered but their nature was not similar. Unfortunately, he was not yet able to distinguish what differentiated them.

"Are you okay, Edward?" Luna asked, holding out her hand.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, it's just that it's really strong," Edward replied, wondering if she could feel the huge waves of power coming out of the arch, because nobody else seemed to notice anything.

"I do not know, but I hear the voices of those who've been left behind..." the girl said in a strange tone.

Intrigued, the boy got out and approached the place where Harry found himself standing mesmerized in front of the arcade and listened carefully. He realized that Luna was right, he could hear murmurs, words whispered with the slight rustle of the veil. He suddenly had the impression that they were particularly addressed to him. With his eyes closed, he remained motionless and listened:

' _Edward... my big boy, I'm so proud of you... Ed, will you come play with Alexander and me when you're done? Edward Elric, congratulations, you did it and you saved my dear Gracia and my lovely Elicia! Thank you! Fullmetal Alchemist, congratulations on your victory! Young man, congratulations and tell Lan Fan that I will miss her but she must continue to protect the young master just like me! My boy, Edward! Ed! Fullmetal Alchemist!_ '

Edward recognized all these voices, he knew them all: they were the voices of the dead, of all those whom he had met in his quest and whom he had never forgotten. He recognized that of Buccaneer, and the grandfather of Lan Fan, who had died a few hours before his departure for this world. He heard the warm voice of Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and that of Nina, so childish. And the most important, the one he had cherished all his life, the one that had driven him to try the unforgivable... the voice of his mother so sweet and seemingly filled with pride. He would have given everything to see her again, to ask forgiveness ... Unconsciously, he held out his fingers so that they brushed against the veil, and again a voice heard only by him sounded:

"You have not yet completed your mission, Edward Elric"

Edward immediately withdrew his hand as if it had been burned: the voice of Truth was recognizable among the thousands, and had come directly to him. He walked away from the veil and heard Hermione's voice sounding extremely uncomfortable and begging (or rather, ordering) them to leave the room. Edward turned to his friends: at first, only Harry, Neville and Luna seemed attracted by this room and its contents, the only ones who could see the thestrals... But he could not think further on it because Hermione and Ginny pushed them resolutely towards the door without him being able to continue his thoughts. The room turned again and Harry tried to open it without success. As he was about to try to force it with his knife, Ed shook his head, saying:

"No need, it's not any good. The one we seek is bound to be opened since they're trying to get us to come."

Harry seemed reluctant, attracted by what could be hidden behind the closed door, but he resigned himself and after another flaming cross, the room began to spin again. The next door was the right one, according to Harry, who recognized it as the room seen during his dream: with bright balls that turned out to be hourglasses, clocks, and watches of all shapes and sizes. It was incredible and it was not difficult for Edward to deduce that this piece was dedicated to time in all its forms, wizards seeking to dissect it, analyze it, cut it hours by hours, minutes by minutes, seconds by seconds ... to control it, maybe?

Like the others, he watched, fascinated, a globe in which an egg became a bird before returning to the egg stage. Hermione had to be thinking of the same thing that Ed was, as she could not help whispering, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?". Luna replied that in her view, there was no beginning or end... Unwilling to linger here unnecessarily, Harry pushed them out of the room grumbling that they did not have time and they entered a huge room that seemed as big as a cathedral and filled with shelves on which rested balls turned off or shining slightly. The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to be racing, knowing exactly where he was going. Edward sighed when he saw his friend's imprudence, and with a crooked grin he tripped the bespectacled teen.

"Hey! Ed, why did you do that?" Harry exclaimed angrily.

"So you'll really listen to me, this time." Edward said this calmly, but his anger was hard to hide. "Just think, since we got here we have not heard anything. No sounds, no screams of pain or torture spells. Sirius is not here, Harry," he said in a low voice.

"So it's a trap," Harry murmured as he regained some of his composure and could think again with a cool head.

"That's it ... they're certainly hidden in the corners, ready to fall on us ..." Edward replied, lowering his voice.

"What do we do then?" Ginny, approaching Harry nervously.

"They have to wait for us to do something important if they have not attacked us yet," Hermione whispered, very pragmatic now that she knew what to expect.

"All right," Edward murmured, glancing around, "If I'm right, this thing must be in this room, and I do not think they'll let us go until we get it." not found…"

"So we're trapped anyway," Neville said, biting his lip as he glanced around.

I have the impression, Edward replied seriously, but I think our opponents are a little further away, which means they do not know how many of us there are. It's time to remember our SC lessons: first thing we should do?"

"Identify the number of opponents and know the places," Ron replied automatically, a strategy specialist.

"We have to separate them to ambush them ourselves?" Ginny asked.

"That's it. Even if we are not numerous enough to make a good ambush, we can at least take a strategic point..."

"The top of the shelves?" Luna finished, looking a lot less dreamy.

"Good idea. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, you'll slowly approach the point where Harry saw Sirius during his vision, very carefully, and you'll be looking among the balls: one of them must be Harry's. Ginny and Luna, you go to the end of that row, you climb on the shelves and you try to pass from one to the other silently and discreetly, you have spells for that. Neville and I will do the same here. Each group will try and watch for as many of the Death Eaters as possible, and when Harry gets attacked, we put most of them out of action and we go down and join him to fight in group formation."

"Roger that," answered the rest of the group before splitting.

The four students in the shelf-top group cast the Muffliato spell to smother all the noises they could make or provoke, and began to draw closer silently as Harry and the other two members of the trio played the comedy of the naïve teens running into the lion's den. Edward watched them carefully, hiding in the shadows and starting to spot Death Eaters hidden in the arches or behind shelves. They were so focused on the ground group that they neglected to look up and none of them had the idea of standing high up. He could see them making fun of the lack of caution on the part of the trio, without realizing that it was done on purpose to warn their friends of where they were...

Edward prepared to jump to another shelf after checking that the coast was clear. He took a running start and jumped, but for the first time, he missed his shot and almost fell. Instinctively, he tried to catch himself on a shelf and dislodged one of the damn balls which he caught as quickly as possible to prevent it from breaking on the ground. As soon as the sphere landed in his hand, it began to shine violently, which snatched an oath from the young man. He hastened to cover the overly shiny ball with his coat and he looked briefly at the label stuck on it to be able to return it later: there was a simple question mark and the inscription: "Prophecy delivered by C. P. T. to N. F., April 3, 1915. " The young boy frowned: the date matched the date of the Promised Day, when he had left... Could this thing, this prophecy, be related to him? He stuffed it in his pocket, deciding he would take care of it later. He nodded at Neville's gaze, which seemed intrigued.

From what he could see, Harry had just found a ball with his name on it (the lucky guy!) and was about to take it after a noisy little chat with Hermione. He glanced over and saw that Ginny and Luna were in position, ready to cast their spells and Neville seemed ready to fight. When Harry grabbed the sphere, a Death Eater's voice rose in the dark room, ordering Harry to give him the prophecy.

The battle began.

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Translator's Notes: none, really.


	22. Chapter 22

Hey, I'm back! Only two chapters left to go...

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As soon as the Death Eater (whose voice resembled that of Draco Malfoy and therefore undoubtedly belonged to his father) had finished throwing down his ultimatum, five or six spells were thrown from the top of the shelves, taking out at least four of the Death Eaters, as far as the ambushers could judge. One of the attackers, more insightful than the others, informed the others that there were kids stuck at the top of the shelves. He received a Stupefy in the face for his troubles, courtesy of Edward Elric who jumped right in front of Harry, staring at his enemies with a small carnivorous smile. A moment later, the others were at his side, forming a circle to avoid being forced into a corner.

"Jugson," ordered Malfoy senior, "revive these fools. As for you, Potter, give me the prophecy."

"No way", said Harry coldly, "I'm not that stupid."

"Oh, baby Potter knows how to think!" exclaimed a Death Eater in a mocking falsetto, "So you didn't even look for my dear cousin?"

"I already know he's not here," Harry said, desperately searching for a way to fight back.

"The question is not there, Potter, if you want you and your friends to come out of here alive, give me that prophecy!"

"That's it, I give you this prophecy and you let us go..." quipped the Boy-Who-Lived, "I hate being taken for a fool."

"I wonder what would happen if it were to break?" Edward wondered aloud with a smile.

"I know that Voldemort is not very kind to those who make mistakes," Harry mused, "I think the most common punishment is torture, or the Avada- well, I won't say it."

"How can you say his name!" exclaimed Bellatrix Lestrange.

"By opening his mouth like anyone else," mumbled Edward, who a moment later, had to avoid a spell launched at him by the madwoman.

"Try that again, and I break this prophecy," Harry said decidedly.

"If you do this, you will not have any bargaining chips left!" exclaimed Malfoy senior, who was struggling to hide his nervousness.

"I do not see how that would change things. Anyway, if we gave it to you nicely, you would kill us soon afterwards, while if we break it, we will at least have the consolation of knowing that Voldemort would make you pay for it."

"And then," Hermione went on, "you wouldn't know what the prophecy says. You do not know what would happen if you killed Harry... Maybe it is the case that only Voldemort can-"

"Dirty Mudblood! Crucio!" shouted the fanatical Death Eater.

Edward pushed Hermione roughly out of the way of the curse. It grazed his ear and smashed two spheres on a shelf. They let out two white silhouettes who uttered an incomprehensible speech while the Death Eaters were arguing among themselves. Taking advantage of the disorder caused, the alchemist exchanged a look with Harry, staring at him as well as all the shelves of prophecy, so unstable and fragile... Turning to the others, he undertook to convey the message to others while his friend diverted attention and gained time by engaging in the discussion.

"Quick question, what is this prophecy?" Harry asked in a falsely innocent tone, while the answer was absolutely not one of his priorities.

"You mean you do not know?" scoffed Lucius Malfoy, "Your dear Headmaster has not seen fit to inform you?"

"Knowing that Voldemort came knocking on the door of my mind every night, it would not have been a good idea, right?" bluffed Harry, who recognized the validity of this argument and was still pissed off at Dumbledore for hiding it from him.

"Do you really think so, Potter? Would not you like to know why the Dark Lord tried to kill you almost fifteen years ago?"

"Is it not rather that Voldemort wants to know why he failed miserably there almost fifteen years ago?" Edward provoked, using the same weapons as the opponent with a hand signal to Harry, who understood the signal immediately.

"Dirty bastard!" exclaimed a death eater.

"Technically, that's probably the case," Edward said icily, his eyes sparkling, and he immediately threw the signal at the same time as Harry, ready to fight.

Reductos flew in all directions, hitting the shelves and shattering them, breaking the prophecies that let out their ghostly messages and hiding the students from the eyes of their opponents. Without asking for anything else, they fled, separating into groups of two, as they were used to from their training. Edward waited for everyone to clear the room and then, using his alchemy, he raised a wall to close the door before joining the group of Harry and Neville who had hidden behind a cupboard, the others having left in other directions. They could hear the exclamations of the Death Eaters, surprised to discover a wall instead of the opening.

"It's not going to slow them down for long..." Ed muttered, not optimistic.

"It's always about winning... What it takes is to hide that damn prophecy," Harry replied.

"Ed, do you still have the prophecy from earlier, the one you almost knocked down?" Neville asked, half-heartedly but excited by his idea.

"You want us to use it as bait?" Edward guessed, not stupid "...I'll wave this thing around and lead them elsewhere," continued the blond, standing up.

"Uh, no, I thought exchanging them, but..." began the Gryffindor.

"It's safer like this," the teen insisted, "Well, try to leave the Mystery Department. I'm luring them, you're waiting before you run away."

"If you get caught, they'll kill you," Harry whispered, livid.

"That's only if they catch me," smiled Ed, assured before whispering: "And here we go."

He rolled his little sphere across the floor, attracting the attention of the Death Eaters. He hastily picked it up and rushed to the exit, effectively luring the opponents after him. He found himself quickly in the circular room and cursed when he saw that the crosses of fire had disappeared. Entering the first door he found, he arrived in a gigantic room, at least as large as the hall of prophecy. It was filled with shelves containing tens of hundreds of thousands of books, maybe more. A true paradise for any Ravenclaw (or for Hermione). The advantage of the room was that he could use all the shelves to hide himself. On the other hand, the disadvantage was that he was going to cause a great deal of damage here…

As he hid behind a bookshelf, he heard the door open again and two or three Death Eaters entered the room loudly, seeming to look for him. None of them had obviously heard of discretion, speaking out loud and effectively informing him of their positions. He was about to clap his hands to neutralize them when he heard a fourth voice in the huge room: there was another Death Eater in the room before he entered. It was odd. Normally, all of Voldemort's henchmen should have been in the Hall of Prophecies to intercept Harry. Which meant that guy was looking for something here... He had to know what it was. He heard the four men part and start looking for him, while he dodged them furtively, hoping they would think he was in another room. His infiltration skills were rewarded when the three Death Eaters turned back to search another room, leaving him alone with the fourth stranger who grumbled about the delay in his task.

Edward approached the corner where Voldemort's servant was working as quietly as a mouse: the latter was forcing open a sort of treasure chest covered in runic symbols, a venture that was soon to be successful, judging by the little satisfied exclamation from the man. He pulled out of the lead box a strange black book, not the kind of heavy grimoire like those in the library. Intrigued, Edward leaned closer to try to catch a title, or an index, anything that would allow him to learn more about this book. But he must have hit something because the guy turned at a breakneck speed and cast a spell in his direction that he narrowly avoided. With his back against the shelf, he felt a cold sweat dripping down his neck while the mysterious Death Eater raised his voice in the darkness:

"I know there's someone here. Show yourself!"

As Edward did not reveal himself, the henchman launched a Reducto at the furniture behind where Ed had hidden himself, mimicking the technique that had saved the skin of Harry and his friends against the young Alchemist. The latter almost got knocked out by the falling shelves and the thousands of books they contained and managed to avoid being engulfed by exposing himself. The Death Eater had obviously waited for this and cast a powerful expeliarmus that sent the teen's wand flying and pinned him against a shelf. He winced when he felt the old wound in his temple, which had finally healed, re-open and blood begin to flow from his forehead, hindering his vision, much to his annoyance. He immediately took the sphere out of his pocket to check that it was not broken and especially to prevent the opponent from retrying to throw it against a wall. His maneuver succeeded because the Death Eater did not cast a spell on him, afraid of breaking the prophecy. He took off his hood, took the time to hide the book that had just been stolen, and stared at the young alchemist. The latter recognized Rookwood, whose portrait had been spread in the Daily Prophet after his escape. The boy did not hesitate to ask:

"What is that book?"

"So you saw it..." the Death Eater sighed, "No matter, you will not have time to repeat it to your friends. Now give me the prophecy and I'll make your death painless."

"You know, this is the first honest ultimatum I get," Edward commented jokingly, "Usually, it's do this and we'll spare your life."

"You like to joke, kid…" the Death Eater replied in an almost pleasant tone. "What is your name? That way I can better remember you after your death."

"Edward Elric," said the young alchemist, who had no trouble revealing it as long as he could stall for time with this conversation.

"Do you mean Edward Elric Flamel?" the Death Eater asked, abruptly interested. "I heard about you after my escape: you're a prodigy who was adopted by Flamel after discovering his puzzle.""

"You are well informed," replied the young alchemist.

"I'm interested in all the mysteries of this world, young man," Voldemort's follower informed him. "After all, I worked here."

"Now I remember. Augustus Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries, you had built an intelligence network within the Ministry itself. I also read your thesis on the Origins of Magic and I'll admit I don't agree with you on most points. "

"So you've read my work?" Rookwood said quizzically. "I doubt it."

"Basically," Edward explained wearily and a little disgusted, "you claim that for Magic to be more powerful in people, there must be a process of selection between wizards and between magic species in order to 'eliminate competition and select the strongest specimens.'"

"So you really have read it," the Death Eater acknowledged, "Congratulations. You know, the Dark Lord could use people like you: smart, talented and capable..."

"It must be said that there are not many in his camp, right?" provoked Edward, hoping to make him angry and push him to make mistakes. But to his surprise, his interlocutor did not deny it.

"Indeed, I have always thought that people like Crabbe and Goyle should have been euthanized at birth or at least sterilized to prevent them from reproducing," said the man scornfully. "But in any organization, there must be those who perform the dirty work... but there are also elites, those of the master race, like the Dark Lord, who are predestined to rule the world."

"And let me guess, you belong to that 'master race'?" the young Ravenclaw asked sarcastically.

"I consider myself a mere ideologue, destined to dominate others certainly, but by ideas," commented Rookwood.

"Ah. A mere ideologue..." Edward quipped.

"You could be part of this work, young man, if you joined the Dark Lord," said the Death Eater with a fanatical gleam in his eyes. "It would be a waste to leave your genius untapped when you have such a disposition to greatness."

"You'll have to go on without me." the young wizard flatly refused.

"Too bad for you."

"By the way," Edward continued, "you still have not answered my first question: what's the book?"

"The key element that will allow the Dark Lord to dominate everything, including magic. Elasticus!"

To Edward's surprise, the ground he was on became soft, almost liquid, and he understood why it was barely half a second before a black spell was fired at him. The Death Eater wanted both to destabilize him and guarantee the security of the prophecy to make sure it does not break. Instead of trying to stand on the unstable floor, he dropped down and saw the dark spell pass over him and cut down the shelf behind him.

Knowing that he had no choice, he formed a circle with his hands and hardened the ground again and straightened up. His little number seemed to provoke the interest of the Death Eater who stared at him like a mad scientist considering an experiment that gives an unexpected result. Edward had already seen this look once on the gold-toothed doctor in the basement of Central. It had not left a good memory.

"Tell me, young man, how did you do that?" asked the former researcher from the Department of Mysteries.

"I know how to do it, that's all," Edward said without further explanation.

"Maybe it would be more interesting to bring you back with us... I think you could be of some interest to the Dark Lord... I feel he will reward me: I'll have brought him the desired book, the expected prophecy and a boy who uses an unknown form of magic... "

While he was bragging, Edward had moved as quietly as possible to the wall and after a quick circle, he put his hands on the wall: a huge stone dragon popped out of the wall and hit the Death Eater hard, sending him flying several meters into a shelf which collapsed on him. Edward gave up trying to find his wand in the mess they had been fighting because he could already see the guy start shaking his head and getting up. With a quick clap of his hands, he created an exit in the wall, walked through, and made it disappear.

He was in the circular room again, but this time several doors were open. Quickly, he made his way to the one where he heard screams like Ron's, and then saw that he was being attacked by tentacles from one of the brains while Neville was trying to somehow release him. Realizing he had to act quickly but could hardly use alchemy now, he resolved to use magic... but remembered that he had left his wand in the library.

Since his debut with the use of magic, Edward Elric had speculated that the wand was merely a vector between the user and the flow of magic that roamed the universe. In theory, it was there to help the user draw a tiny share of the world's energy except in its case where it had the effect of reducing the amount of energy it extracted. Nevertheless, the studies of the young Ravenclaw had led him to look into accidental magic: sometimes quite violent, disproportionate and completely unconscious phenomena of magic caused by children without wands at hand. This had led the boy to make a hypothesis: conscious wandless magic was possible in theory.

From what Ed could determine, there were two ways for wizards to use magic without a wand: the first was to use the energy that circulated in the telluric currents and/or that of the magical heart. The majority of the wizarding population believed it was these two phenomena that allowed them to use magic and the few wizards who tried it were using these energies for their wandless spells. However, the spells were weaker because they were not powered by the energy coming from the Gate and it was usually exhausting for users as they often used their vital energy for it. Moreover, during his apprenticeship, an average wizard would be thwarted by his own bad habits and laziness: it was so much easier to use a wand rather than spend many long years to attempt to access the telluric currents . Hence the fact that it was a discipline not practiced by wizards.

However, according to Edward's hypothesis, there was a second way of doing wandless magic: it was enough for a wizard to learn, like other magical creatures, to draw magic directly from the universal flow from the Gate of this world and discover how to use it. According to the young Ravenclaw, it was theoretically possible. But to use it in this way, a sorcerer had to learn how to get rid of his prejudices because generally, they had denigrated this hypothesis and didn't even understand it. And even then, it would take many years to learn this process. So we came back to the first problem of wandless magic: time and intelligence were essential to learning it.

But Edward left with a huge advantage in this area: he knew how to use the universal flow of magic and understood its use. He could thus access the Gate much more easily and quickly, without having to use his wand. Nevertheless, he had never tried to experiment until now: he had already seen the results of his use of magic when he was restricted by his own wand. He did not want to know what would happen if he did not have an artifact capable of hindering the strength of his spells…

But there he had no choice: he shouted to Neville to duck down and concentrating, he put himself in the same state of mind that when he used the alchemy he clapped his hands and diverted what he considered as a tiny fraction of energy. A ball of pure magic energy appeared in his hands, shining with a golden light too bright to let his gaze linger on it. It pulsed like a heart and seemed to want to escape at all costs: as usual, Edward had underestimated the power he had just snatched from the flow and found himself with such a huge amount of magic that casting a spell with it could be fatal for all. Already the force of energy had reduced the sleeves of his coat to tatters and his skin could no longer bear such power, to the point that many wounds were beginning to appear on his arms.

Understanding with terror that he had the equivalent of a bomb in his hands, the young Alchemist uttered a loud cry and managed to throw a portion of the energy ball at the brain. It disintegrated and threw the two Gryffindors several meters. But Edward had not used all the power at his disposal and unleashed another wave of power but this time, directed against himself. He did not dare to reject such power in this room and cause a catastrophe. He felt vaguely his body being propelled outside the room of the brains but did not pay attention as the pain overwhelmed him. He landed hard on the ground and had to have lost consciousness for a few seconds because when he woke up, Neville was at his side, mortally worried.

He straightened up abruptly despite the protests of the boy: his arms were deeply burned and frankly hurt him. But he could not afford to rest: he had to find and help Harry. When he got up and felt the prophecy, miraculously intact, he could not help wondering: either he had been lucky, or these things were stronger than he thought. Seeing that Neville had already taken the lead, he stopped questioning himself, put aside the pain and rushed into the room where he had just disappeared.

He arrived in the Hall of Death as Neville exclaimed that Harry "was not alone!" Thinking that in the face of several trained Death Eaters, even he might not be able to turn the tables, he ran to join Harry with Longbottom while avoiding a dozen spells. He placed himself back to back with him, Neville next to him, watching the opponents get closer like a pack of hyenas encircling isolated prey. He whispered to the Boy-Who-Lived, in a low voice, his teeth clenched:

"Tell me, do they know you don't have the right prophecy?"

"I don't think so..." Harry replied in the same tone.

"In that case…"

He took out his prophecy from his pocket and waved it in front of the Death Eaters like a rattle in front of a baby and gathered the right reaction: cries "he's got it!", "Catch it!" For a moment, Edward could have burst out laughing at all those wizards who were now looking at him attentively. For a brief moment, he wondered what he was going to do and then dismissed these useless thoughts: as usual, he was going to improvise!

Spells began to fire at him but were countered by Harry whose eyes were focused on the enemy while Neville clenched his teeth, staring at the only woman in the band. There must have been a story behind it, judging by the way this madwoman provoked it, but that was not the time to dig this story: if one of them got caught, they would have to surrender .

Realizing that the situation was getting desperate, Edward mumbled between his teeth:

"It's moments like this that I would like the cavalry to arrive!"

Just as he was formulating these words, the door of the hall opened abruptly and the Order of the Phoenix made its appearance and its members began to join the fight with the Death Eaters.

"You should explain to me how you did that," muttered Harry, who seemed to develop a sense of sarcasm worthy of Mustang during a battle.

"Um ... if you want my opinion, maybe we shouldn't stay here ..." Neville said with a certain pragmatism while stooping to avoid a very vicious spell.


	23. Chapter 23

Hey everybody! I'm back with a new chapter. Only one more after this, and this installment of Beyond the Gate is complete! And I hope to have chapter 24 up by Friday, so keep your eyes peeled for it.

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The disappearance of prophecy into the veil seemed to cause a little moment of hesitation among the fighters, who seemed stunned by the disappearance of the artifact they so desired (or so they believed). The stupor was at its height, when, completely unexpectedly, not one but three small balls of crystal that reappeared, as if returned by a playful hand. Edward had a very clear idea of who seemed to have decided to complicate his life, but decided not to dig deeper into the question: indeed, following this unexpected reappearance, the battle had begun again, more violent and fierce than ever before as the death eaters and the defenders of the Order clashed.

The young alchemist quickly grabbed the copy that had rolled in his direction and stuffed it in his pocket. Harry, for his part, had gone to catch the second one and with the skill of a confirmed seeker, had managed to seize it and then had passed it to Neville. Looking for the third, Edward let out a curse when he saw the Death Eater he had faced in the library get his hands on it. He gave him an ironic smile in their direction and rushed to the exit.

Although Edward knew that Rookwood did not hold the correct prophecy in his hands, he could not help but feel an ominous shudder as he helplessly watched the flight of the Death Eater, pursued by members of the Order. In fact, only two fighters did not seem to care about the fate of the prophecy and it was Sirius and the madwoman, identified as Bellatrix Lestrange. Perched on a kind of stage, they fought furiously, as if only the existence of the other mattered, indifferent to the rest. In a daze, the teenagers watched this duel, a little unsure of the results of such a confrontation, not daring to cast spells for fear of hurting the poor duelists.

The place was becoming dangerous, spells and curses bounced and one of them eventually found its target in the person of Harry, who was thrown against a platform. To his horror, the boy felt his own prophecy burst, crumbling to the ground. The boy fumbled feverishly in his pocket, in the futile hope that the worst had not happened, but without hope: he withdrew a bloody hand from the splinters of glass.

But Sirius had seen his godson be thrown violently against the step, he saw the blood flowing from Harry's wounds and took his expression of horror for suffering. Mad with rage and forgetting all prudence, he threw himself headlong into the battle, throwing all defense to the wind, desiring only one thing: to defeat his adversary and protect his godson. This reaction proved fatal.

A spell cast by an ecstatic Bellatrix found its target in Sirius' chest and threw him into the arch in the center of the room. Harry's godfather crossed the veil under Edward's dismayed gaze- the teen knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what that meant. A journey without return. He came to his senses when he saw that Harry was speeding toward the ultimate border of life and death, determined to try to find Sirius while Bellatrix took advantage of the confusion to flee, pursued by Neville.

Realizing that every word would come into the ear of a deaf man, he resigned himself to using the strong way and pinned his friend to the ground, preventing him from committing suicide by ignorance. The young Gryffindor struggled while the alchemist tried to explain to him the inexplicable

"Harry, listen to me! This veil is mortality, it is death incarnate! You can't do anything for Sirius anymore: he's gone through it! "

" Liar ! Harry yelled, tears in his eyes. I know he's behind, I know we can bring him back! He's right behind that veil, he can come back, I can bring him back! "

"You can't bring the dead back to life! Edward shouted with all his might while keeping the Boy-Who-Lived on the ground.

"In that case, let me join him!" exclaimed Harry, made mad with despair and sorrow, "It's my fault he's dead, just let me join him! "

" No. Edward said firmly.

"It's normal for me to sacrifice myself ..." stammered the Gryffindor.

"Harry, we can only sacrifice ourselves for the living, never for the dead," said the blond alchemist in a serious tone.

"Sirius ..."

"Is dead, Harry. I'm sorry." Ed said.

Letting go of his friend, now that he finally accepted what had happened, Edward got up and helped Harry to do the same. Unfortunately, he should have known that the Boy-Who-Lived would not stay there. Rage had taken the place of sorrow and, without losing a moment, he ran towards the exit of the room, taking the same direction taken by Bellatrix during his escape. Edward cursed mentally as he realized the situation: he felt tired, exhausted by his recent exploits. He ached everywhere and wanted only one thing, to fall to the ground and sleep for days. But he could not leave his first friend of this world alone to face that woman, and so he ran after Harry. He bumped into a still warm body for a moment and leaned forward to identify him: it was Neville, who luckily was still alive. He pointed his finger up and whispered "Harry" in an almost inaudible voice.

Knowing he probably meant the atrium, Edward immediately ran to the circular room, managing to find the door to exit it the first time and turned to the elevator, running as quickly as possible. As he was about to reach it, he heard footsteps. Turning, he saw Professor Dumbledore on his heels, also heading for the elevator shaft..

Determined not to leave the Headmaster with the control of the matter, the young alchemist rushed into the car at the same time as the old mage. He did not protest, already knowing that it was better not to waste time. They arrived just in time to witness Voldemort's fifth attempt at Harry Potter's murder.

Without wasting time, the director had already animated the golden statues of the Fountain of the Brotherhood, even before the car stopped and was able to intercept the lethal spell of the dark wizard. A titanic fight began in the hall of the department.

Edward had rushed to Harry to see how he was doing and he could not really tell the extent of the damage. The boy seemed in shock and it was understandable after all the fighting, the death of Sirius and the arrival of Voldemort.

Deciding that it was better for the moment to remain under the protection of Dumbledore's animated statues, the young alchemist turned his attention to the battle between the two greatest magicians of this century. It was a wave of great magic that one rarely saw; the energy that flowed from the very powerful enchantments was simply breathtaking. Soon, like his friend, Edward could not help contemplating, mouth agape, the fantastic duel, unable to form the least coherent thought in his head before the many metamorphoses and spells employed.

Soon, as far as he could judge, the fight seemed to end with the old Headmaster's victory: his adversary seemed to have fled after an elemental spell had imprisoned him in a water globe. Edward was just beginning to relax when he realized by seeing Dumbledore's alarmed look that the fight was not over: he had just changed his target to Harry.

His eyes had become purple, and he was convulsing under the awful possession of which he was the victim. Realizing that this time he could not reach Harry's mind by mere words, the young alchemist decided to use his trump card, and, concentrating with all his might, he closed his eyes and mentally projected himself into the spirit of his friend, repeating his feat against Pride from a year ago.

To access it was a nightmare: he had to go through the layers of pure hatred and malevolence that were Voldemort's spirit. It was almost worse than traveling through the suffering and tormented souls of Pride's Philosopher's Stone: the dark wizard's spirit was terrifying, seemingly able to defile any thought by his infamy, and Edward would have been appalled if he had not been so focused on finding Harry's soul in the middle of this maelstrom of violence and hateful thoughts. Finally, he reached the eye of the storm and reached the soul of the Boy-Who-Lived, who seemed to be engulfed by the abject pain of contact with Voldemort's mind and the deep despair of Sirius's loss.

"Harry, do you hear me, you have to push him away!" Edward thought with all his strength.

"I can not ... Too hard, let me die, Ed ..." was the weak thought that reached him.

"Never, I know you can do it, you've done it already!

"My parents are dead, Sirius is dead, I have nothing left ..." The despair that emerged from these words almost reached Edward before he strengthened his resolve.

"Your parents died out of love for you, Sirius died out of love for you. Maybe they are no longer physically present but their love is still there in you. Oh, fuck it, I'm tired, I really do not mean crap: You really think that there is nothing here for you? What about Ron? And Hermione? And all of us who came with you? Think of all of us, hurry and get that bad guy out of your head and then let's go back to Hogwarts!"

By the time he finished his unorthodox speech of support, Edward could feel the powerful feelings in Harry shining brighter and brighter and literally springing up as if to chase away the insidious tentacles of Voldemort's venomous spirit. They retracted as if they were suffering from a violent pain caused by an unbearable burn, but Edward himself felt only a pleasant warmth in contact with Harry's emotions. Nevertheless, despite this he felt he had to withdraw and return to his body: he wasn't meant to be here.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing next to Harry, with Dumbledore's eyes fixed on the dark haired teen, looking relieved as the Gryffindor began to regain consciousness. Regaining his awareness of the world around him, Edward glanced around: more and more people from the ministry were coming in, all commenting on Voldemort's presence in the sacred enclave of the ministry, not understanding how such a thing could have happened.

Edward was determined to take the pleasure of reporting all the events, but as he was trying to get up he felt the effects Ministry's fight and all the magically foolish things he did during it. He was in pain and really sleepy...

"Calling the minister out for fucking everybody in the ass will unfortunately have to wait..." thought the teen before he fainted.

* * *

He heard noise around him but he did not know what it was. But couldn't the universe let him sleep, just this once? Unfortunately, the noises of conversation did not diminish and became even clearer: understanding that sleep would not come again, the young alchemist decided to pretend so as to listen to the discussion beside him. Who knows? Perhaps he would hear compliments about his humble person...

"I hope he's going to wake up ..." said a voice he identified as Hermione's. "It's been two days like this ... Even Ron's regained consciousness."

 _Two days? He had experienced worse in terms of a loss of consciousness, but still..._

"At the same time, he wasn't holding back during the battle," Neville said anxiously. "I think he even used wandless magic, and according to my grandmother, that's particularly challenging..."

"And in addition, in the end, he used legilimency to get me..." Harry murmured.

"You never really explained what happened," said Ginny with all possible tact.

"Well ..." Harry began, hesitantly. "Voldemort had taken possession of me and I no longer had the strength to fight him. And then Edward was there. He tried to encourage me, then he ended up yelling at me, ordering me, I think, to think of you guys, to get that creep out of my head so we could go back to Hogwarts."

A general laugh followed the Boy-Who-Lived's explanation.

"That's so him!" Ginny laughed as she tried to suppress her laughter.

"I recognize his tastes there..." laughed Ron.

"Edward Elric, tact personified." Hermione seemed to lament, with an amused undertone in her voice.

"I have the impression that you're talking about me... Have I misunderstood?" Edward interrupted, not eager to hear the other "compliments" that could be given to him.

He looked at his friends: Harry, Ginny and Neville seemed the only ones able to get out of their beds while Ron, Luna and Hermione were still lying under the sheets, many potions were placed on their bedside tables, proof that they were still under treatment. On his own bedside table, he could see his wand that had been obvisibly found ... The young Ravenclaw was very busy cutting fabric to make dolls similar to the one he had received for Christmas to place them above the beds of everybody. Nevertheless, she interrupted her activity to crack a nice 'Hello Edward, have you slept well?'.

"Ed! You're awake!" exclaimed the youngest Weasley.

"Looks like it... So what happened after I passed out?" Edward asked, eager for news.

"A dozen Death Eaters were arrested by Dumbledore, but neither Bellatrix Lestrange nor the Death Eater who took the wrong prophecy are part of it," Harry explained as he collected his thoughts. "Then Dumbledore started giving orders to Fudge, then he made two portkeys: one to send me to his office and a second to send you to the infirmary in Hogwarts."

"Luckily I was unconscious in that case," muttered Edward. Everyone knew he had little love for wizarding transport.

"I ... talked to Dumbledore for a while before joining you," finished the Boy-Who-Lived without elaborating more about this infamous discussion.

"What Harry fails to tell you, Edward, is that he demolished Professor Dumbledore's desk during their conversation," Hermione said disapprovingly.

"I always knew that I had an excellent influence on you," smiled the young alchemist, before asking, "and your injuries?"

"Nothing definitive, normally," Ron said, adding, "Hermione will have a lot of dreadful potions to swallow for a few weeks and my scars will stay with me all my life. In fact, it was you who worried us the most. "

"Oh? "

"Yes. Dumbledore came to see you many times. And even Snape went to the infirmary because of you." Neville shuddered.

"Technically, he only came here to call him a fool with a shrunken Gryffindor brain," Ginny said with a smile. "Apparently, he's mad at you, especially because of your imprudent use of legilimency."

"I think he likes you," Luna added dreamily, indifferent to the disgusted exclamations of her Gryffindor friends.

"He dared to call me a midget with a smaller brain than a mollusk?" Ed complained, having only heard the most important (to him) details.

"The fact that you did not react when you heard that really showed you were not doing well," Hermione said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Oh, you are awake!" Mrs. Pomfrey said, pulling the curtain. "That's good news, I can finally examine him... You all, visiting time is over."

"No, wait, don't leave me here alone with this dragon! No!" Edward exclaimed, pleading with his fake friends who were leaving quietly and making a mockery of him while he was under the wrath of the healer.

* * *

A few days later, Edward came out of the dormitory after finishing packing his trunk. Unlike his fellow Ravenclaw classmates, he had no desire to attend the end-of-the-year feast and therefore preferred to wander aimlessly through the corridors. But obviously, he was not the only one who was not in the mood to attend the meal because he saw Luna and Harry in the middle of a discussion about the death of loved ones. Not wishing to disturb this moment, he waited silently, marveling at the comfort Luna could bring with her simple words and poetry. She alone could no doubt bring hope to the one who had just lost his godfather.

Shortly after, having seen his friend's announcement of her lost things, he cast an _accio_ to bring back a large pile of clothes, trinkets and other items stolen by her "classmates" and in more or less good state. While fixing some things, he reproached himself for not having noticed this hazing earlier and vowed to remedy this dirty habit next year...

The next day, while he was about to go to the hall to take the coach, Mrs. Pomfrey intercepted him to give him a bag containing the few things he had accidentally forgotten during his flight- er, no- his somewhat hasty departure from the infirmary. Rummaging through it, he was surprised to feel a round object and took out the copy of the prophecy he had intercepted in the Department of Mysteries and which, miraculously, was intact. He stared at it idiotically for a few minutes: he had completely forgotten about it, and in all honesty he would have sworn that by now it would have been in Dumbledore's possession.

He did not know what to do with it: this sphere had fallen into his hands mysteriously, as if it were intended for him. It also bore the date April 3, 1915, an intriguing coincidence since it was the date of his departure from the world of Amestris. But why did the Truth think it best to returni it in triplicate? One of them was in Voldemort's hands, another had been recovered by Neville.

Hearing that he was called, the boy decided to put aside the problem of the ball and went to join his friends.

* * *

Translation Notes: That part that Ed thinks right before he faints includes this hilariously vulgar phrase in the original French, se foutre de la gueule de [quelqu'un], that literally means "fucking [someone] in the mouth" (and, somewhat disappointingly, figuratively means messing around/with someone). I decided to translate this as "fucking everybody in the ass" to capture both the general vulgarity and the figurative meaning of the phrase.


	24. Chapter 24

Okay, so maybe I lied a little about getting this up on Friday. In my defense, I had graveyard shift and rhyming is an absolute bitch to translate.  
But here we are: the final chapter of _Edward Elric and the Order of the Phoenix_. :') I want to say thank you to everybody for all the support and love you've given me over the long two-and-a-half(!) years I've been translating this fic. You guys are awesome, and I hope you all return for the sequel. Enjoy!

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EPILOGUE

"This is not the right prophecy, Rookwood," said the Dark Lord in a hissing voice.

"Forgive me, Master," whispered the Death Eater, kneeling before his master, "they had to use a decoy to confuse us."

"In normal times, I would have punished you for this failure but I will be indulgent of this mistake: your mission was not to recover the prophecy but another object and I must say that you have done your job well."

"Thank you, Master," replied Rookwood.

On the other hand," the dark wizard continued in a chilling voice, "those who have failed will be entitled to punishment, both for not having brought back the prophecy but also for being captured by that muggle lover."

"Master, I would like to ask you a favor…" the former spy of the ministry dared to solicit, in a respectful tone.

"What?" Voldemort asked coldly.

"What was the contents of the false prophecy?" The voice of the former Unspeakable was tinged with greed while adding: "even if it was not the correct one, to get a glimpse of the future can only be useful, Master…"

"You are decidedly clever, my faithful servant. It is true that the beginning seems promising. However, the end is missing."

Then, unfurling a parchment, he presented to the former employee of the Department of Mysteries the following text:

As the last day of the century died, he was born, shining with light:

A child sacrificed to seize an infinite power.

The darkness will not cease to hunt him every hour

In order to see him sink forever

Engulfed in oblivion: return a futile endeavor,-

* * *

At the same time, in the Headmaster's office, at Hogwarts ...

"I guess Voldemort was furious when he realized that he did not have the right prophecy in his hands ..." Dumbledore said anxiously as he studied his spy.

"He did, indeed, make everyone feel his unhappiness, although paradoxically, his fury spared him who had brought him the prophecy ..." Snape confirmed, wincing imperceptibly.

"That's curious ... Voldemort does not usually forgive mistakes."

"Because apparently Rookwood had another mission he accomplished perfectly. I do not know all the details, but he came back with a prophecy and a black book," the spy said.

"No title?" asked the old teacher, concerned.

"Not that I know," Snape answered.

"And you know nothing about this bad prophecy and its contents?" asked the venerable wizard again.

"No information was available about it, professor. He listened to it alone, without a witness," declared the potion teacher.

"Too bad. I would have liked to know if it was really related to this one…" said Dumbledore, summoning a similar milky ball to his hand like a magician making a rabbit spring from his hat.

"It's not Potter's, is it?" asked the former spy, purely rhetorically.

"Indeed. This is a prophecy used as a lure by Harry and his friends during their trip to the Department of Mysteries. But it would seem, according to Neville's testimony, that it was separated into three separate parts: one of them fell into the hands of the Death Eaters, the other probably stayed in the Ministry and the third is here," declared Dumbledore.

"What does it say?" asked the Potions Master, curious to know the contents of the glass ball.

"I propose that we determine that right away," said Dumbledore, releasing the sphere to the ground. The globe grew in brightness and a ghostly and vaguely feminine silhouette rose from it and said:

His coming can bring about the end as well as the survival of this world.

But if, this sacrifice, alone in his conscience and soul

Does not accept the risks of his path in full,

Then everyone will see the world sink into chaos

And magic itself will eventually surely be lost.

* * *

Edward sighed, preparing to take leave of his friends. The return journey had been long but spent in good company. Amazing, the bonds that had been created and strengthened during the year between the SC members of 'Operation Department of Mysteries.' To think that at the beginning, some of them hadn't even known one another-

For a few hours, the visits to their compartment came in a steady stream, one after another, with staring glances, frantic whispers, unfolded newspapers to verify that it was indeed Harry Potter (even though they had all seen him in the corridors throughout the year...) Edward was prodigiously annoyed at the gawkers and sighed, with Hermione, at the naivete of these sheep. Luna, Ginny and Harry were completely indifferent to all the hallway visitors. Ron smiled warmly, glad to see their efforts recognized, while Neville seemed rather embarrassed by this fuss.

Finally, the train stopped at King Cross station and everyone began to grab their luggage. Edward, himself, was preparing for a difficult exercise: to part ways with the Weasley family in order to regain his independence, which he cherished above all else. He had not talked about his plans to anyone, not wanting the members of the Order to hunt him down. The teenage alchemist thought he had given sufficient proof that he was trustworthy to all these wizards.

Slipping away quickly, he climbed back onto the train incognito and hid in the toilet to get rid of his usual clothes to put on a more discreet ensemble. Soon, his long hair was well hidden under a cap, a brown jacket replaced his favorite coat, and he had used his wand to cast some spells to make himself more unnoticeable. As he tried to put away his coat, the globe of prophecy fell from his pocket and broke on the floor of the toilet, revealing the last part of the prophecy:

Sent from the Gate, the Truth's emissary, to this enigma you already have the key.

To live, you will have to die,

To protect, you will have to sacrifice,

But know that the survival of those you love

Require from you that you forget your self.

"That sounds very encouraging to me..." Edward muttered darkly as he removed the evidence of his ever being there and left King's Cross station for an unknown destination.

THE END

* * *

I hope to have the first chapter of the sequel up by June. I hope to see you all here again, and thank you again for all the support!


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